


True Colors

by ladydragon76



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-01
Updated: 2011-08-01
Packaged: 2017-10-22 02:05:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> After crashing on an alien planet, Bluestreak and Dragstrip need to work together to get back to Earth.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	True Colors

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** G1  
>  **Series:** None  
>  **Rating:** R  
>  **Characters:** Bluestreak, Dragstrip  
>  **Warnings:** Violence, excessive profanity  
>  **Notes:** I got a little tired of fandom personifying Bluestreak as a woobie. He’s a sniper, an elite, the best the Autobot’s have. Stands to reason that he’d be a capable of pulling on his big bot panties, and getting himself through a crisis situation.

Bluestreak cursed as the shuttle shimmied from another strike. He was a better pilot than the Decepticon, but he was in a far less maneuverable craft. Another shot took his aft shielding down to thirty percent. He wasn’t going to make it back to Earth. Fraggit. He wasn’t going to make it out of the current solar system.

Still cursing, Bluestreak rolled, managing to dodge a few more shots, the laser bolts gliding by, beautiful and brilliant in the surrounding blackness of space. Navigation chimed, and he dove and rolled again. The fourth planet from the star came back as habitable.

Bluestreak snorted, the shuttle rattling hard as he pulled a six-G turn, managing to dodge a few more shots. The planet showed in his view screen, mottled green and brown, polar regions capped in ice. He didn’t like ice, especially not after hearing Skyfire talk about what he could remember from his entombment. He aimed for the equator, but more target lock alarms rang out.

“Oh, slag this!” Bluestreak shoved the controls down, reversing thrusters. A blast shook the shuttle, a control panel burst with sparks, aft shields dropping. He didn’t need them anymore anyway. He slammed the shuttle forward, giving chase himself for a change.

Targeting was apparently knocked out of alignment, his first barrage of fire ridiculously wide of the Decepticon ship. Swearing vilely enough in several languages to make even Ratchet blush, Bluestreak shut down targeting and aimed for himself.

The universe went still around him, the blaring alarms fading, the shaking only one more variance to calculate into his shot.

_Lead the target._

The Decepticon ship danced in front of him, but Bluestreak stayed locked on with single-minded determination, dipping and dodging the rear guns that fired at him. He was _not_ going to die out here in space. He’d never failed a mission before, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to fail this one.

He fired, watching, willing the plasma bolt to strike its target.

It did, but the Decepticon got off a final shot of his own. Sparks flew throughout the cabin, and Bluestreak bounced in his harness as his shuttle shook like a rat in a terrier’s mouth. He clutched at the controls, pushing aside the worry over whether it could even break atmo in this condition. He was going to find out one way or another. At least the Decepticon was going down too, ahead of Bluestreak, and definitely caught in the planet’s gravitational pull.

He did his best to follow. This wasn’t over, and if he survived the landing -edit that- if he survived the _crash_ , he didn’t want the Decepticon sneaking up on his aft unaware.

Both ships plummeted, and something tore off the Decepticon’s. Bluestreak twisted his body to the side, ducking, doing his best to protect his optics and chest as the transparasteel was hit. It didn’t give right away, and for a moment he thought it would hold, but a second blow shattered it. Shards burst inward, the wind roaring in his audials more painfully than the dozens of small gashes and cuts.

The fall seemed to take forever, the minutes dragging on as Bluestreak fought his failing craft and gravity both. He could see the land below, more green than brown now. The Decepticon was in a flat spin, whirling around fast enough to make Bluestreak wince in genuine empathy for the ‘Con. He pushed his little shuttle further from the other ship. It would suck slag to survive the crash, only to have the Decepticon land on him.

He shook off the freezing lance of fear, not wanting to be trapped. _Won’t be. Not gonna happen. Besides. Impact would kill me. Heat from the plasma fires would melt me with the shuttle, _he thought morbidly. _Pit of a way to go, but it’d be fast.___

Still, he finessed-wrestled his shuttle further from the Decepticon, optics searching for an open area to try sliding to a stop. There. A gap in the trees. Primus! Huge slagging trees! It was a wide enough strip though, and Bluestreak cursed and begged his dying craft into alignment.

For as long as the fall to the surface had taken, the last seconds flashed by in fast forward. Branches struck and cracked, there was a grinding sound beneath his feet, then the impact.

Bluestreak cried out as he was thrown forward, the harness straps catching him as they were meant to, but the sheer force denting his plating. He engaged the reverse thrusters, heard the engine scream in protest. Rocks and debris flew up into his face. Bit of tree roots exploded as he rode over them.

“Com’on, baby, please?” Bluestreak whispered, watching as he slid toward a wide expanse of rippling brown.

There was a screech of metal, a harder jerk, and -not that he could have done anything about it at that point- Bluestreak saw a thick, gnarled root. The shuttle struck, a harness strap tore loose, the world inverted, spun until he could see the sky again. Above him he saw the Decepticon ship.

_Slag. He really is going to land on me._

Then he impacted, helm slamming down on the console as the defeated shuttle juttered to a stop.

~ | ~

“Ow,” Bluestreak said even before he was entirely awake. He lay still for a few moments, wondering why he was awake at all. A breeze blew in, hot and humid, but it was air, so he wasn’t trapped, and that was an instant relief. He took stock of his injuries. Cuts, dents, one Pit-spawn of a headache. Little bleeding, but nothing his self-repair couldn’t handle given some time.

Fragging miracle.

Ratchet was going to be so pissed when he got back.

Cycling his vents, Bluestreak pushed himself up. He had to cut himself loose, the harness lock crushed from his own weight slamming against it. Holy slag, how was he alive?

Bluestreak cut himself free, then set about checking the systems. Comms were gone. No slagging way would the shuttle fly. Scanners didn’t work either. He shut everything down. It was pointless to waste the energon trying to make something happen that sure wasn’t going to, and he was going to need to siphon that energon, because until someone noticed he wasn’t back two weeks from now, couldn’t hail him, and then finally got clearance to come look for him, he was stuck.

Grabbing what he could from the trashed cabin, Bluestreak subspaced it all, and climbed out the front of the shuttle, sliding to the squelchy ground. He looked out over the brown… fluid of the lake, and sighed. Tropical in a way. The trees were ginormous with huge brilliant green leaves, their trunks bent and gnarled and thick. The land under them was deeply shaded, the sun barely peeking through to the ground. Out on the water though, the sun glittered and reflected off the ripples of the lake. It was sticky-hot, and condensation was forming on his plating already, the moisture in the air collecting on him. He probably wouldn’t need that emergency thermal blanket he had grabbed, but who knew what it would be like at night.

Bluestreak turned, getting his first look of the outside of his shuttle. “Slag me,” he breathed, slowly circling the wreck. A giddy laugh bubbled up, and he shook his head. “How the frag am I alive?!” Obviously, there was a god somewhere, from some culture that was still pretty frelling amused by Bluestreak’s continuing existence.

He shook his head again, chuckling to himself, and set about siphoning the energon from the shuttle’s tanks. It wouldn’t taste all that great, but it would keep him going once his emergency rations were gone.

Once he had those containers stored safely in his subspace he turned to his one remaining task before he could settle in for his wait.

The Decepticon.

He needed to confirm he was dead, or deactivate him himself. He was not going to spend possible months fending off attacks and getting even more injured.

His scanners were picking up a signal not too terribly far away, so Bluestreak set off, moving carefully and silently past the roots. As he walked, the ground remained springy due to the years and years of leaves moldering on the ground, but at least they didn’t squish and squelch anymore.

He could actually smell the wreckage before he saw it. Crouching down, doorwings tucked back, Bluestreak slowly crept closer. His first look at the wreckage made his optics widen. He was going to find a corpse. If even that much remained of the Decepticon pilot.

No excuse to get sloppy though, so he snuck around, using the large tree trunks for cover. He had nearly made the entire circuit when he froze.

“Know you’re there, fucker! Show yourself!”

Bluestreak peeped around the trunk. Dragstrip. Facing away, and blaster wavering into the trees well forward of Bluestreak’s position.

Bluestreak frowned as he set up his shot, then it struck. The Stunticons and their frelling forcefields. Damn! Well, those forcefields didn’t extend around their weapons. He sank to a knee, sighting in on the trembling blaster.

“Come on, coward!” Dragstrip shouted. “Come out and face me like a real warrior! Too scared?!”

Bluestreak exhaled, held, and squeezed the trigger.

Dragstrip yelped, invectives filling the clearing. He dove for the blaster, but it was a smoldering ruin. And just because he could, Bluestreak fired a shot between Dragstrip’s hand and the blaster. Leaf dust puffed up, and Dragstrip froze, hand still outstretched.

“I know how to get off this planet,” Dragstrip said just loud enough to carry, voice smug. “Kill me, and you’ll never find it.”

Bluestreak’s lips pressed together in annoyance. Bribery then. Tempting bribery too, because he really did not want to just sit around and hope he didn’t starve before he was found.

“I’m not dead yet, but you ain’t talkin’! What’s it gonna be?” Dragstrip shouted, sitting up, optics scanning the tree line.

Bluestreak cycled his vents, then rose, stepping into the open. “How?”

Dragstrip’s helm whipped around, optics narrowing when he spotted Bluestreak. “Yeah, fuck you. Not about to just give you all the info without some assurances.” His optics locked on Bluestreak’s rifle. “And sure not gonna talk when you have a gun in my face.”

Bluestreak tipped his helm, considering, really taking a good hard look at the Stunticon. He _was_ damaged. “Forcefield’s out, huh?” The crash might have been too much. And slaggit. He could have had the fragger. Of course, if Dragstrip wasn’t lying about a way off this rock, that was still possibly a good thing. Just to test, he fired just to the side of Dragstrip’s foot. Dragstrip swore, jerking his leg in, and there was a little _ping_ as a pebble or something bounced off his armor.

“So how do _we_ ,” Bluestreak stressed the word, “get back to Earth?”

Dragstrip glared, eying the rifle. “There’s a space bridge on this planet.”

“Convenient.”

“Ain’t it just?” Dragstrip sneered, and stood up. “Get that thing outta my face!”

“No.” Bluestreak fired a warning shot in front of him as Dragstrip growled and moved forward. “I really have no problem killing you.”

“Oh, yeah? So you know where the bridge is? Know the activation codes? Know Earth’s coordinates?”

“Do you?” Bluestreak asked.

“Of course I do, ya slaghead! What the hell do you think I was doing all the way out here?” Dragstrip gestured back at the wreckage of his ship. “The fifth planet’s got some-“ he cut himself off. “Nevermind, but I was bringing it here to ship back.” He looked back at the pile of twisted metal. “Should kill you for slagging up my mission. You got any idea how pissed Megatron’s gonna be?!”

Bluestreak gave the Stunticon a shark’s grin. “I can imagine.” Dragstrip glowered, and Bluestreak decided to give him a chance to screw up. He lowered his rifle to a less threatening position. “What supplies do you have?”

Dragstrip crossed his arms over his chest. “Better than whatever you got, and I’m _not_ sharing! You can come along if you can keep up, but if you slow me down, I’m leaving your aft behind.”

“Can’t you just, like, fly?” Bluestreak asked.

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

“I don’t fuck sparklings. Especially foul-mouthed ‘Con sparklings,” Bluestreak replied with a straight face. So no forcefield, antigravs busted. Good. Dragstrip was probably lucky to have even a handful of spare rations on him. He didn’t strike Bluestreak as the well-prepared traveler, and his mission plainly wasn’t a long one. “So how long of a walk do we have? When will your faction start searching for you? Are there any other ‘Cons here? What do you know about this planet?”

“What, you got that gun, so you get to ask all the questions?” Dragstrip kicked at the ground. “And I’m not no slagging sparkling! Why don’t you tell me all that stuff first, huh?”

Bluestreak huffed a soft laugh. “Ok. I don’t know. In a couple days,” he lied. “I don’t know, and nothing. Your turn.”

“Maybe I should just kill you now. Save myself the trouble of having to listen to you trying to play like you’re better’n me.”

“How much energon do you have? Enough to get us where we’re going?” Bluestreak watched Dragstrip fidget a moment. Sparkling. Uncontrolled. Easy to read. He definitely didn’t have enough energon. “I have enough to last myself a couple months. If we ration carefully, even a month on foot is doable.” He let that sink in a moment, watching Dragstrip’s optics widen.

“Now I know you’re fucking with me.”

“Not. I’m willing to bargain here. I might be bored and stuck with nothing to do but whittle wood until the other Autobots get here, but I won’t starve. My offer is to share my energon when your supply runs out for safe passage off this planet and back to Earth.” Bluestreak gave a careless shrug. “Up to you though.”

Dragstrip was eying him suspiciously. “So if it’d just be some vacation for you, then why would you care how long you’re here?”

“Waste of resources. It’s easier to get myself back, even if that means cooperating with a ‘Con, than to wait here for rescue.” Bluestreak shrugged again. “I don’t like playing damsel. Do you? Can’t imagine Megatron would be too happy to have to send someone after you. Be even worse for you when he learns you failed.”

Bluestreak watched the play of emotions over Dragstrip’s face, and that’s when he realized something else. The red visor was missing. Well, he certainly wasn’t going to complain. The more he could read from the Stunticon’s face, the better.

“Fine,” Dragstrip said, sounding as unhappy as he looked. “Hey! What about your shuttle?”

Optic ridge arching, Bluestreak shook his head. “Slagged. Now which way are we going?”

Dragstrip pointed back in the direction of Bluestreak’s shuttle, not that he likely knew it “Probably a week’s walk. But I ain’t making it with you pointing that thing at my back the whole time.”

“Won’t be pointing it at you if you don’t give me a reason. I swear on my spark, I’ll do everything I can to keep both of us alive until we reach Earth so long as you don’t try to harm me on the way.”

“Fine. But that wasn’t the only blaster I have,” Dragstrip said, gesturing to the one Bluestreak shot from his hand. “So you better not try playing me.”

Bluestreak shifted the rifle so it was cradled in his arms. “Lead the way,” he said walking toward Dragstrip, outwardly ignoring the threat. It wasn’t him that was the untrustworthy one after all. “And you didn’t answer me. What’s this planet like. Are there native people? Animals? What should we be watching for?”

Dragstrip fell into step beside Bluestreak, but out of reach. “I dunno. I came through the bridge, got in the shuttle, and left. Was coming back when I saw you.”

Bluestreak nodded in acceptance. Luckily, there weren’t many things in the galaxy that could mess with an armed Cybertronian, but there were still dangers he would keep his optics open for.

One of them walked just to his left.

~ | ~

It took less time to walk back to his shuttle than it had for Bluestreak to find the Decepticon wreckage. Dragstrip spotted it, and snickered.

“I survived a much worse crash than you. Hey! Shouldn’t we stop and get stuff?” Dragstrip asked as Bluestreak just kept walking.

“Got it all.”

“You stripped your shuttle already?”

“Yes,” Bluestreak said, glancing back, but didn’t slow his pace. _Woke up, stripped my shuttle, and found your aft all before you made it to your feet,_ he thought, but chose not to goad. Might be fun to mess with the Stunticon’s head a little, but that probably wasn’t the wisest choice. They had a long hike ahead of them. He settled instead for asking, “Where do you think I got such a large supply of energon from?” Not entirely true, but he sure wasn’t going to tell the Stunticon about the stash of condensed, high-nutrient cubes he carried too.

“Wait! Whoa!” Dragstrip trotted to catch up. “I’m going to be drinking _shuttle fuel_?”

“Works the same in our systems as it does for the shuttle.”

“That’s gross!” Dragstrip stopped again, shaking his head. “Nuh uh, no way. It’ll taste like sludge!” Bluestreak glanced back over his shoulder, but kept walking. “It _is_ sludge!”

“Few days before you have to worry about it. Maybe if you pick up the pace, we can get to the space bridge before you have to drink sludge.”

Dragstrip caught up again, sneering at Bluestreak. “Think you’re something special don’t you? Well you’re not.”

“I’m not the sparkling caught in a survival situation, whining about the flavor of his energon,” Bluestreak said, tone even.

“And unless we get some open space to drive, ain’t no way to make it before I run out of energon. Maybe I should just kill you and take your energon. Drinking sludge is drinking sludge, but at least I wouldn’t have to put up with you!”

“You’re welcome to try.” Bluestreak looked up, pausing mid-step as a sound echoed down from above. He searched as the trill repeated. “Something lives here after all.” He moved on, making note of the glower Dragstrip gave him. _Too obvious, kiddo. I know what you’re thinking. It’s all over your face, and even if you kill me, which you just might manage, you’re so much slag the second you jimmy open my subspace._

Mirage had insisted. Jazz had agreed. Ratchet was the only other one to know about the rigging on his subspace, and him only in the case Bluestreak was ever killed on a mission and was carrying something of worth.

“I think it’s getting darker,” Bluestreak said, looking up again as they walked.

“Duh. Night.”

Bluestreak peered up, trying to see through the broad leaves to the sky above. “I don’t think so. It was too bright just a little while ago.”

“Ok, nature master. Whatever you say.” Dragstrip flapped a hand at him. “Forgetting I was created on an organic planet. Stupid,” he muttered, picking his way over some roots and vines on the ground.

Bluestreak listened as the Stunticon ranted on. He doubted a relatively new mech, even if he had been created on Earth, knew more than he did. Bluestreak liked chatting with Hound, and going on walks. He also lived in a base that had free access to the outdoors. Unlike the Decepticons. Oh, well, not like it really mattered what Dragstrip said. Bluestreak let him talk, half-listening as he moved.

More trills sounded, and the longer they walked, the more different calls Bluestreak heard. And the darker it got. He frowned. It really didn’t _seem_ like night was falling, but this wasn’t Earth.

Just as Bluestreak was going to admit to himself that Dragstrip had been right, thunder crashed right over them. Startled, Bluestreak had his rifle back up in an instant. Dragstrip had flinched hard, then gone completely still too, his secondary blaster appearing in his hand.

Rattling sounded above them, and Bluestreak waited, spark pounding. Frag. What happened to rumbles in the distance? No, the crazy planet had to try to surprise him right out of his armor! The rattling drew closer, the first drops of rain making it through the thick canopy of leaves.

“Gonna shoot the rain drops?” Dragstrip snarled, tucking his blaster away.

Bluestreak relaxed, ignored Dragstrip’s attempt at bravado, and started walking again. “Nah. Waste of charge.” Dragstrip grumbled about smart-mouthed ‘Bots, and followed.

Within minutes the rain was torrential, the soft ground beneath becoming its own shallow brown lake, slurping at their feet with every step. And it was still hot. Bluestreak continually blew air out hard through his vents just so the intakes wouldn’t flood, inhaling through his mouth only. It was inefficient, but there wasn’t anything else he could do. He gave up on carrying his rifle, slinging it onto his back so at least the barrel wouldn’t fill up. Visibility was reduced to almost nothing, and despite their mutual distrust, Bluestreak let Dragstrip move in closer. Some small part of him was keenly aware of how young the Stunticon was, and Bluestreak _had_ given his word. He needed to keep them both alive and as safe as possible.

“This is insane!” Dragstrip shouted as he stumbled over another root that had been hidden below the collecting rain water.

Bluestreak nodded. They needed to wait the storm out before they got injured. “Up there!” he pointed a few minutes later. A huge root bowed out over some others. It would be close quarters and not much of an improvement, but it would get them off the ground and provide a little relief from the pounding rain.

Dragstrip hurried forward, stumbling again, and cursing as he fell and splashed into the mucky water. Bluestreak stepped up first, choosing the more protected side, and pushing a few vines aside as the Stunticon glared and joined him. Bluestreak could feel the vines vibrating from the force of the rain.

“This sucks slag!” Dragstrip yelled to be heard over the roar. “Isn’t rain supposed to at least cool things off?”

Bluestreak shrugged, and pressed his back against the tree trunk, letting his doorwings hang loose. “Different planet, different laws of nature.”

“Oh slag off, Yoda!” Dragstrip crossed his arms over his chest and stared out.

“You realize you just insinuated I’m all kinds of wise and knowledgeable, right?” Bluestreak asked with a grin.

Dragstrip glared. “Yoda dies, you moron!”

Bluestreak chuckled, too softly to be heard, and relaxed. He watched Dragstrip from the corner of his optic, but the Stunticon was more fussed over the rain and heat than the Autobot in front of him.

~ | ~

The rain lasted well into true night before finally stopping, and by that time the flood waters were up to their hips. Bluestreak shook his head, ignored the insults Dragstrip threw at him, and reminded the Stunticon that if they came across a sudden shift in the land, then one or the other could easily be lost, then neither of them were getting to the space bridge. Dragstrip had bitched, and ranted, but climbed back up into their spot, only to drop into recharge a few minutes later.

Bluestreak quietly pulled one of his condensed cubes from his subspace, consuming it with his optics locked on the Stunticon. His self-repair needed the boost, and he needed to remain alert. He topped off with the shuttle fuel, and it really _did_ taste like sludge, but it wasn’t the first time he’d had to drink it.

Nature sounds returned as the night wore on, and Bluestreak watched and listened. He dozed lightly now and then, but woke each time Dragstrip shifted, or some creature would come close. Nothing threatened them, and as the sky began to lighten, Bluestreak noticed the water level had dropped considerably.

He stepped down, feet sinking in. Walking required effort with the ground trying to hold on to him, but at least they could see most of the roots and vines again.

Bluestreak turned as he heard Dragstrip move, watched with a blank expression as the Stunticon glared at him while drinking a cube of his energon.

“What?!”

“If you’ve had enough sleep, princess, I think we should get moving,” Bluestreak said. Dragstrip growled, and was in his face in an instant. “That way, right?” he asked pointing, and moving off, unphased by the threat, and leaving the Stunticon fuming behind him.

Dragstrip grumbled, but eventually his talk turned to this or that adventure at the Decepticon base. “Bet you namby pamby ‘Bots don’t do…” fill in the blank, continue on with the story. Each one just a little too embellished to be believed as told. Bluestreak let him talk on. It didn’t bother him at all, though he was beginning to feel oddly tense.

The forest was becoming more dense as the day wore on, slowing them down. Dragstrip had long since switched back to complaining. Bluestreak only grew more tense, but nothing attacked. When the thunder came again, neither of them jumped, though Dragstrip’s bitching took on the tone of a whine until they found another set of roots to climb into and out of the rain. The vines hanging over the roots and branches shuddered around them as they hunkered back against the tree trunk. Shoulder to shoulder, and neither liking it. Bluestreak wanted to throw the Decepticon off his doorwing, but remained still. A fight was the last thing they needed as the water level rose again.

~ | ~

The next morning started just like the one before it. The water had drained off for the most part. The air was sticky and hot. The trees were dense, and the ropy vines hung thicker and thicker around them. By what Bluestreak figured was midday, they were shoving their way through the heavy vines.

Bluestreak stopped. Both their vents were heaving. Water ran down their plating, the air still and silent.

Silent?

Bluestreak looked all around, listening hard. There were a few rustles and shifts in the trees and vines, but nothing else. He frowned, that sense of growing unease tightening to a hard knot in his middle.

“What?” Dragstrip asked. “Glitching on me?”

“Where are the animals?” Bluestreak asked, voice hushed. “Where are all the sounds we should be hearing?”

“Who cares? Glad they finally shut the slag up.” Dragstrip pushed forward, shoving though the vines.

Bluestreak hurried to follow, flicking a doorwing as one was caught against a vine. “You’re sure we’re still going the right way?”

“Yes. I’m sure.” Dragstrip glared back at him. “I know our current coordinates, and I know where the space bridge is. We got a slagging deal, right?” He huffed and turned, muttering invectives as they inched their way forward.

Another hour passed, and they had not made much progress. Dragstrip was becoming more and more agitated, and Bluestreak felt frustrated himself. He was on edge, and tensed, ready for a fight when Dragstrip finally lost it.

“This fucking _sucks_!” Dragstrip snapped, his blaster suddenly in his hand. He fired rapidly into the vines in front of him, blowing them apart. A sickly yellow-green gel-like substance splattered around, oozing down other vines and plopping onto tree roots.

Bluestreak pulled his own blaster, not certain that Dragstrip wouldn’t just turn on him. The Stunticon didn’t, but he continued to fire, moving forward, kicking and knocking shredded vines out of his way. Between shots, Bluestreak heard something odd. A hissing, rustling sound that was almost entirely drowned out by blaster fire, made him frown around in concern and curiosity.

“Dragstrip, stop.” Bluestreak was ignored. “Dragstrip!”

“What?!” Dragstrip snarled, turning, optics blazing as the business end of his weapon pointed at Bluestreak.

Bluestreak held his hand up for silence, optics searching the low canopy of green. There was movement all around them. He lifted his blaster, turning slowly. Dragstrip did as well, but they were effectively surrounded. “I think you woke someth-“

A blur of green shot out. They both fired and the vine was obliterated.

“The fuck?!” Dragstrip shouted firing as more vines launched toward them.

Bluestreak pulled a second blaster, firing at anything that came near them, but he figured they might just be screwed, cocooned as they were. “Back to back!” He shot over his shoulder, scorching his doorwing to escape the grasping tentacle.

Dragstrip obeyed, and Bluestreak tried not to let the surprise distract him.

“We gotta get out of this!” Dragstrip yelled, cursing as he jerked against Bluestreak’s back.

Going back wasn’t an option, so forward it was. “Brace yourself,” Bluestreak said, charging up his shoulder launchers.

“Brace my- The frag are you doing?!”

Bluestreak twisted for the correct angle, then fired into the mass of writhing green. He turned, pulling Dragstrip down with him as the rocket was caught, then exploded.

A shrilling filled the air, and Bluestreak jumped back to his feet, hauling Dragstrip up too. “Come on!” He ran through the gap, unable to stop the snicker at the Stunticon’s disgusted ‘urgh’. “Move it, ‘Con!” he shouted, launching another rocket. “You woke it, but I slagged it off.”

Individual tentacles came at them, too many to shoot them all, and too fast to outrun, but they fought forward, desperation lending strength. Bluestreak fired his last rocket, prayed, then plunged though. He tumbled onto hard-packed ground, rolled, and found his feet while turning, doorwings flared for balance.

Dragstrip dove after him, but was jerked to a sudden stop. Red optics widened in shock and fear as he hung in midair. More tentacles wrapped around Dragstrip, and Bluestreak backed up a few steps, pulling his rifle from his back.

“You swore! Fragger!”

Bluestreak lifted the rifle, sighting in on the vines while the Stunticon’s struggles grew more frantic, less and less of the filthy gold plating showing through the writhing green.

“Don’t move,” Bluestreak said, smirking as Dragstrip’s optics went even wider. He fired, four shots in rapid succession, then one more when the last vine, thicker than the others, didn’t give completely.

Dragstrip dropped to the ground with a yelp, then scrambled away as another vine lashed out at him. Bluestreak held his fire, waiting as the Stunticon panted by his feet. The vines -tentacles- rattled and hissed, and the ends waved in the air, but none approached, and as he stepped back a little further, Bluestreak slung his rifle to his back.

“And I thought Rider was insane.” Bluestreak glanced down at Dragstrip, helm tilting in curiosity. “No, really,” Dragstrip said as he stood, shaking his arms hard away from his body to try to get some of the ichor off. “Fucking firing rockets not ten meters from us.” He shook his helm. “Goddamn nuts. That’s what you are.”

Bluestreak gave him a slight grin. “You swear in English too much.”

“Fuck off,” Dragstrip said, but he was grinning too, sharing in the high of simple survival. He sighed, looking down. “What I wouldn’t give for a washrack.”

Bluestreak nodded. He’d been dirtier, but not in a damn long time, and there was a difference between dealing with filth, and liking it. He looked up, the sky bright, some fluffy clouds high above. “Rain would work.” He started walking, optics shifting to the ground, really looking at the long, rather dry blades of yellow-green grass. “I don’t know if it’s rained here recently though.”

“How the frag would that be possible?” Dragstrip asked, catching up, still trying to wipe off his armor. “We got drowned the last two days.”

Bluestreak shrugged. “Maybe it was the forest itself?” He looked back at the tall trees.

“Oh, that’s nasty!” Dragstrip said, and Bluestreak gave him a questioning look. “The forest was pissing on us? Gross.”

“Ugh! Primus!” Bluestreak shook his head, and strode forward. The ground felt too uneven to risk driving, but they could pick up the pace. “And no. Just a lot of moisture. Hound said that rain is from the evaporation of water into the air. Well there was a lot more water there, so there’d be more rain, right?” He shot a still disgusted look at Dragstrip. “ _Water_. Just _water_.”

“Thought you Autobutts liked organics?” Dragstrip passed him, jogging lightly, so Bluestreak did too. “Ain’t that why you’re always protecting them?”

“Not minding humans, and acknowledging they have a right to freedom on their own planet, and helping them defend that freedom’s not the same as wanting to be covered in slime or coated in liquid waste.” Primus on a pogo stick, was he _really_ having this conversation? “It’s time to change the subject.”

“Aw. Gonna purge your tanks?” Dragstrip laughed.

Bluestreak narrowed his optics, the Stunticon laughing harder as they trotted along. Bluestreak let him laugh while subtly wiping a nice handful of the slime from his armor. It hit Dragstrip’s face with a nice wet _splot_ , the laughter instantly changing to a gagging cough as he spat out what had gotten in his mouth.

Bluestreak dropped back to a walk, turning so he could face Dragstrip. Wouldn’t do to get shot in the back. “Gonna purge your tanks?” he called with a laugh.

Dragstrip’s optics flared, a dark scowl on his face. “I’ll get you back for that.”

“I’m so scared,” Bluestreak said, wiping off more of the gunk and flinging it to the ground. He could feel it all over his doorwings too, the extra weight an irritation. “We can set the terms of our prank war once we get back to Earth.”

Dragstrip snorted, but apparently the light reminder was enough. He caught up to Bluestreak again, and they ran on.

Bluestreak had, of course, been right when he’d said it was drier there on the plain, but it was at least as hot, maybe more so. It was hard to tell through the itchiness as the slime dried. Both of them dropped back to a walk when the sun was still high in the sky. Dragstrip’s vents roared, but when asked if he wanted to sit and rest, had just glared at Bluestreak and kept walking.

Bluestreak could see the forest running in the distance to their right. They were still on the correct heading from what he could tell, but there was no way to know if Dragstrip was leading them straight to the space bridge, or off to the side of it. If it were Bluestreak with the coordinates, he would lead them offside, or even past it a bit. He wasn’t sure if Dragstrip had thought of it, but chances were he had. That, and his word, held Bluestreak in check as the Stunticon launched into tales of his exploits in battle. He growled as Dragstrip bragged on about hurting this or that Autobot. How he’d _almost_ had that yellow menace, or how a good shot had blown up the red one’s jetpack.

“Thought he was dead for sure, but nope, stupid ‘Bots. Don’t know how to stay down,” Dragstrip was saying as the sun finally sank, turning the sky and incredible wash of red and purple.

Bluestreak snarled, temper frayed. His hand whipped out and caught Dragstrip by the throat. He had the Stunticon under him on the ground, his blaster’s low whirr filling the very small gap of space between their faces. Bluestreak cycled his vents slowly, carefully packing away the images of Sideswipe’s back shredded, of the piece of shrapnel Ratchet had removed from _just_ beside the frontliner’s spark crystal, of how Sunstreaker -powerful, aloof, introverted Sunstreaker- had keened in fear and pain when he saw the fear and doubt on Ratchet’s face. He focused on breathing, knowing his optics were white, able to see the genuine fear in Dragstrip’s face, but not feeling guilty about it at all as millions of images flashed, all of them horrible.

Bluestreak pulled the blaster away, Dragstrip still and tense beneath him. In a low voice he said, “You’re very lucky you have failed to kill any of my friends so far.” He stood, looked around, then sat, pulling a cloth from his subspace, and began cleaning his blaster. “We’ll rest here tonight.”

Dragstrip sat up slowly. Some intelligence must have asserted itself over his usual bravado and bluster, because he did nothing but carefully pull out his own blasters for a cleaning.

Bluestreak watched the Stunticon from his periphery, and as the land around them darkened into true night, the stars glittering above, Dragstrip laid down. He pretended to recharge for a little while, then finally dropped off. Bluestreak finished cleaning his weapons, consumed a couple of the condensed cubes, and through a modification Jazz had taught him, recharged them. It was a shame the rocket launchers couldn’t be reloaded the same way. He’d just have to hope he didn’t need to blow anything else up.

At least Ironhide would be impressed, Bluestreak thought and grinned. It’d been a calculated risk, but the vines had taken the blast as he’d hoped, and their oozy slime had actually protected him and Dragstrip from any truly bad burns.

He topped off again with the shuttle fuel, frowning as he realized he couldn’t remember seeing Dragstrip refuel since that one cube. It was possible he was doing it when Bluestreak dozed, but he kind of doubted it. He struggled in indecision for a moment, then put the container away. Leaving it out for Dragstrip would be stupid. He’d take it, shoot Bluestreak, and be gone. Better to deal with the slagger collapsing from pride than hand over the only leverage Bluestreak had.

He tucked to container away, and curled up on his side, trying to recharge despite the damn persistent itchiness on his plating. The first lake they found, he was jumping in.

~ | ~

Bluestreak lurched back awake, hand already locked on Dragstrip’s, fingers digging into the joint. “Gonna blow us both to slag if you do that.”

“I’m hungry,” Dragstrip said, unmoving. The red glow from his optics was just enough for Bluestreak to see his wince as he squeezed and pinched the finer gears and lines in Dragstrip’s wrist.

“I’m so sure,” Bluestreak said as he sat up. “Ever heard of asking, ya know, instead of stealing?” He squeezed a little harder, and Dragstrip hissed in pain. “We have a deal, remember?” He let go.

“We _had_ a deal!” Dragstrip snarled. “You broke it.”

“Can’t give you energon if I don’t know you need it.”

“Don’t play stupid with me! I had your gun in my face again today!” Dragstrip stood, stepping back. His blaster was in his hand in the next instant.

Bluestreak slowly pulled out one of the containers with the shuttle fuel, and held it out. “Crybaby. All I did was knock you down.” He raised an optic ridge, and waggled the container at Dragstrip. “Or is princess ever so delicate without her forcefield that a little, _well-deserved_ bump into the grass caused deal-breaking damage?”

Dragstrip growled, and snatched the container from Bluestreak. “Fuck you.” He tipped the container up, sniffed, made a face, then drank. He took a few gulps, then choked, looking like he was going to be sick.

Bluestreak took the container back and subspaced it while Dragstrip was still busy being disgusted. “Careful. It tastes like sludge,” he said cheerfully. He laughed as Dragstrip stuck his middle finger up. “You that hard up to get laid?” he asked, standing and dusting himself off. Dragstrip’s optics narrowed into a glare, and Bluestreak shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one that keeps bringing the subject up.”

“That slag is vile!”

“Yup,” Bluestreak grinned, then looked up at the sky. “Morning soon, let’s get moving.” He set out in the direction they’d been heading.

“Who stuck you in charge again, _Autobot_?” Dragstrip demanded as he matched pace with Bluestreak.

“Rank and age, sparkling.” He glanced to his side. “And practicality. You want to get to the space bridge, right? We’re both awake, so we should be moving.”

Dragstrip scowled, the predawn light making the angles of his face sharper. “I’m _not_ a sparkling!”

“Then quit acting like one.” Bluestreak increased his pace, and soon they were jogging along. Dragstrip was silent, sulking or plotting, Bluestreak didn’t know, and it really didn’t matter.

What little heat had abated during the night was back with a vengeance by late morning. Bluestreak dropped back to a walk, his own cooling system close to redlining. Dragstrip gave him a smug look, but said nothing for a while as they walked. Bluestreak didn’t fuss over it. Let the kid have his triumph. If he hadn’t slowed down, it’d have been the Stunticon seizing up, not him.

“What’s that?” Dragstrip asked, pointing with one hand, and lifting the other to shade his optics.

Bluestreak squinted, but couldn’t see. He stopped, pulling his rifle forward to look. “I can’t tell,” he said after staring for a few minutes. “It’s too low, or the grass is too long there.” He lowered his weapon, keeping it in his hands as he began walking again. “We’ll pass close to it.”

Dragstrip nodded and stayed by his side. Bluestreak hid a grin at the funny walk as the Stunticon would step, lifting one leg higher to scratch at his plating, then repeat it for the other leg. “Shut up. Know you’re itchy too. We’re covered in that slag.”

Bluestreak chuckled. “We’ll keep an optic out for a lake or river.” He _was_ itchy, just more determined to ignore it. Especially with Dragstrip’s comical display.

They walked on for a little longer before Dragstrip started sniffing at the air. Bluestreak bit his lip, watching from his periphery, and trying not to snicker. He was catching an odd scent in the slight breeze that had picked up too, but wasn’t going to say anything. Not with Dragstrip doing a damn good impression of a curious dog.

“Do you smell that?” Dragstrip finally asked. “Smells like dead squishy.” Bluestreak looked at him sharply, but Dragstrip kept talking. “Do you? That sickly sweet smell?” he asked with a quick glance at Bluestreak. “Motormaster took us to a beach for a training exercise once, and there was a big dead whale there.” He snorted through his vents, rubbing at his nose, and frowning. “Never forget that stench. There’s a dead squishy around here somewhere.”

Bluestreak frowned too, but lifted his rifle again. He stopped, and found that mystery object ahead of them again. “Bet it’s that. Wind’s right. Blowing it right at us.”

“You wanna go poke it? The dead whale was gross. Got Breakdown to purge his tanks,” Dragstrip snickered.

Bluestreak gave him a flat look, and moved out. “No, I don’t want to poke it, but it wouldn’t hurt to look at it. At this distance, it’s got to be pretty big. It’d be smart to know what sorts of animals might be out here with us.”

“We haven’t seen anything in days.”

“Except for the tree that tried to kill us,” Bluestreak pointed out.

“Wasting time. Awake. Should be moving. Ain’t that what you said?” Dragstrip kicked his feet at the grass, then scratched at his plating some more.

Bluestreak shrugged. “Ok.”

“Ok? What do you mean ‘ok’?”

“I mean _ok_ , Dragstrip. If you’re too squeamish, we can just pass it by.” Bluestreak waved a hand dismissively. “No big deal.”

Dragstrip’s optics narrowed into a glare. “I’m not squeamish! I’m the one that dared Wildrider to lick the dead whale and make Breakdown purge! That’s _not_ squeamish!”

Bluestreak turned incredulous optics onto the Stunticon. Licking a dead whale?! “Primus! Ugh! And fine then,” he said as if giving in. “We’ll go check it out.”

Dragstrip snorted. “Wimpy ‘Bots,” he muttered, and strode forward.

Bluestreak raised an optic ridge and followed. That’d been ridiculously easy. Like, so easy he didn’t even feel he could count it as a victory in getting the Stunticon to do what he wanted.

The smell increased as they got closer, and Bluestreak wished it weren’t so hot so he could just stop his respiration until they were out of the area. One thing became apparent as they got closer, the grass tall enough to brush their waists; the animal was _huge_ , absolutely massive. His best guess put it at about three times larger than they were, and all around it, the grass was even taller, more yellow than green and wet-looking. The fur was matted and brittle, but he saw no obvious wounds. No claw marks. Nothing that could have been created by a weapon.

Bluestreak circled it, looking for any and all signs of damage. What could have brought such a creature down? The beast was lying on its side, much of it hidden by the grass, and he didn’t want to get too close. The bright chartreuse beads of liquid made him nervous, and Bluestreak always tried to follow his instincts.

“Ow! Fucking slag! Holy shit!”

Bluestreak rushed back around to Dragstrip where the Stunticon was frantically trying to wipe his hand on the dry grass. “What happened?”

“It’s fucking acid!” Dragstrip said, backing further away from the dead creature.

Bluestreak pulled the shuttle fuel from his subspace as he hurried over, then grabbed Dragstrip’s hand. It wasn’t that bad, but where he’d swiped a finger over the grass, the acid had killed the color nanites.

“I can feel it!” Dragstrip said, voice uncharacteristically distressed.

“I know. Be still.” Bluestreak pulled Dragstrip’s hand out away from their bodies, and splashed a little of the energon over it.

“Are you crazy?! That’s our fuel!”

“It’s also the only liquid I have to rinse off the acid with,” Bluestreak replied, resisting as Dragstrip tried to tug his hand back. He watched. It wasn’t terribly strong acid, but he poured a little more over the wound. “Self-repair should handle it. Here.” He held out the container to Dragstrip.

“What? I don’t want more of that slag.” Dragstrip stepped back, shaking his hand to fling away the energon. His other hand scratched at this leg again, but this time his thigh, not his lower leg.

Bluestreak frowned, putting the energon away, and moving toward the Stunticon. “Slag,” he breathed, looking at Dragstrip’s legs. The gold faded to nothing but bare metal at his feet. Bluestreak looked down at his own legs, and swore again. “Acid. It’s _all_ acid!” Without another word, he turned and made for the forest in the distance.

“What?!” Dragstrip ran after him. “What do you mean it’s all acid?!”

“The grass, it’s acidic. Look at your feet!” Primus! Bluestreak, admittedly, wasn’t a very scientific mech, but if that animal, an organic, had been walking along as they had in the grass…

There had been no weapons, no attackers. That beast had probably walked out into the plain, maybe even eaten some of the grass, and had died from it. They _really_ needed to wash off, and if the forest and its rain could give them that, then it was better than staying on the plain. “Just don’t shoot anything this time!” Bluestreak shouted over his shoulder as they ran.

They’d been trotting through it, kicking up dust, _inhaling_ it! They still were. Slag! He _hated_ flooding his vents, but that was exactly what they were going to have to do the first bit of water they found. That was going to suck, and Bluestreak was going to have to deal with coaching an enemy through it that in all likelihood hadn’t ever- No, he was getting ahead of himself. Dragstrip and the other Decepticons lived under the fragging ocean. They also didn’t exactly play nicely with each other. There was a chance the Stunticon had had flooded vents before.

Bluestreak shook off the worry. He’d do what he could, when he could. Until then, he focused on the ribbon of dark green ahead of him, and ran.

~ | ~

The sun was setting by the time they reached the forest’s edge. Bluestreak slowed to a stop, and looked at the trees. They were blessedly free of those brilliant green vines. There were vines, and that did make Bluestreak nervous as they moved in under the first branches, but they were… older, dry, and the same brown as the tree trunks. Grey-brown lichen moved gently in the light breeze. Birds, or whatever this planet’s equivalent was, trilled and sang far above them and out of sight.

“Come on,” Dragstrip said, striding in, though his voice was a little hushed. “Bet we missed the rain.”

Bluestreak followed, optics searching the ground, the leaves in the trees. “Not as humid. Ground is dry.”

Dragstrip whirled around. “You mean it’s not gonna rain?! The frag we come here for then? We could have run _toward_ the space bridge!”

Bluestreak shook his head, walking cautiously forward, deeper into the forest. “No,” he said, looking down at the lashes of silver throughout the red of his thighs. “We’d still be in that mess. We need to get washed off, and-“

Dragstrip grabbed his arm and yanked. “And there’s no fucking rain!”

“Lower your voice, and _think_ for a damn minute,” Bluestreak hissed, leaning his face closer to Dragstrip’s. “We saw no signs of water out there, and even if there was, any we found would have been contaminated by acid. How much would that help us, huh? What we are is fragging lucky that it’s not all that strong and we were able to get out of it as fast as we did. What do you think _killed_ that animal?”

Of course, he was assuming that the forest itself wasn’t like the grass, but he didn’t see any of that bright yellow-green. “We’ll go a little deeper, get some distance, turn back toward the space bridge, run our scanners at max, and hopefully we’ll find some sort of water to wash in.” Bluestreak jerked his arm out of the Stunticon’s grasp, and started walking.

Dragstrip grumbled, but followed, and until it was too dark to see without lights, they traveled on.

“I’m still itchy,” Dragstrip said, and braced a hand against a tree so he could scratch at his foot, fingers digging into his ankle joint.

“Shouldn’t do that,” Bluestreak said. This was as good a place as any to stop, so he took out the energon, and sat at the base of a tree, surprisingly comfortable between two roots.

“Get slagged,” Dragstrip said. “And what are you doing sitting? We need to find a place to wash this shit off!”

“It’s dark. We need rest. Check your self-repair. Mine’s already trying to work against the damage.” Granted his diagnostics were returning continual -but very, very slight- damage all over his frame. Mostly in his ankle and knee joints, but nothing so severe as to compromise his systems. He took a few good mouthfuls of the energon, forcing himself not to grimace just for the fun of showing Dragstrip up.

“We need to wash!”

“Here,” Bluestreak said holding out the container. “Top off, get some rest. We’ll set out once it’s light enough to see.” He leveled a challenging look at Dragstrip. “Unless, of course, you’re wanting to get hurt so I have to carry your aft out of here. Bet that’d make a great story.”

Dragstrip snatched the container with a sneer. “That won’t happen.” He drank, coughed, but managed not to look like he wanted to purge _quite_ so badly this time. He shoved it back at Bluestreak, and threw himself down on the other side of the tree root. “Still tastes like sludge.”

“Yup,” Bluestreak agreed, took another mouthful, then put it away.

He stared off into the dark forest for a long while, listening as Dragstrip finally slipped into recharge. Night sounds surrounded them, and now and then he was sure he heard something near them, but there were no attacks, nothing that made him tense up in wary alert.

Bluestreak relaxed, letting himself doze. Morning would come soon enough, and hopefully he would find them a place to get that much needed bath.

~ | ~

Bluestreak woke as Dragstrip shifted and grumbled sleepily. Trilling and twittering filled the air around them, and a low mist swirled in the early light. He had camped out once with Hound, waiting and watching to see if the Decepticons would take the bait they’d laid out, and this morning reminded him of that one. Although, this one was much more peaceful without the tight anticipation waiting for the enemy to show up caused.

Dragstrip mumbled something, shifting again, and Bluestreak found himself grinning a bit. He took out the shuttle fuel, wondering what Dragstrip and the others would be like had they been created Autobots instead of Decepticons. Dragstrip was facing away, so he snuck a condensed cube to help both his self-repair, and to get rid of the awful taste. They would probably be much like the Aerialbots, Bluestreak thought. Cocky, brash, impatient. Actually they _were_ all that. But where all the Autobots tried to train and teach the Aerialbots, helped them curb the greediness and lack of empathy all sparklings had, the Decepticons only encouraged, through word and deed, cruelty and hatred.

In that moment, as Dragstrip squirmed again, face turning and looking so very young, Bluestreak pitied him. He’d never had a chance, and without his entire gestalt getting the same help, there was nothing that could be done.

“Dragstrip,” he said, reaching out to gently touch the Stunticon’s shoulder. Dragstrip jumped, optics wide and flaring. Bluestreak let go before he could be snarled at, and held out the energon. “Time to get moving.” He stood, dusting his aft off, and giving his doorwings a good shake.

Dragstrip choked on the fuel, coughing as he held the container back out to Bluestreak. Then he kept coughing, the sound of it raspy. Bluestreak frowned. “Come on. We need to find some water.”

“Gee, ya think?” Dragstrip coughed again, shook himself all over, then started walking.

Bluestreak shook his head and followed.

~ | ~

It was mid morning, and the heat was becoming oppressive when they came to a break in the trees. A… game trail. That’s what Hound had called these sorts of paths. Bluestreak also remembered that game trails were there because animals used them to hunt and get to water.

“That way is toward the space bridge, right?” he asked, pointing to their left.

“Yeah.” Dragstrip stepped out onto the trail. It was wide. They could easily walk side by side at a comfortable distance from each other. He took a few steps, kicking at the ground. His cough was still present, and Bluestreak was fighting one himself. He had already reassigned his self-repair to the delicate filters of his vents, but the damage was already there. “Let’s drive a bit. Looks flat enough.”

Bluestreak shook his head. “We don’t know the land. Zooming over it wouldn’t be smart, and there’s probably going to be animals.”

“So? Stupid ‘Bots and your soft sparks.”

Bluestreak grabbed Dragstrip’s arm before he could transform. “Have you ever hit a deer without your shielding? Have you ever seen the sheer damage that even a little raccoon can do to your fender? Call me soft-sparked all you like, but use your fragging processors for more than bragging about how tough and cool you are. I’m not a medic, and our self-repair is already pretty damn busy from acid damage. Or didn’t you link that cough of yours to inhaling the dust and particles out there on the plain?”

Dragstrip’s optics went wide. “I have acid in my intakes?”

Bluestreak resisted the urge to shake him, then decided to go ahead and do it anyway. “ _Think_ just a little before you act. We have no medics, no shields, no safety nets. We’re on our own, and if you want to live, then you need to _think_!” He let go, a cough of his own escaping. “Come on. We walk, and we’ll rest when we need to. Getting overheated isn’t going to get us to the space bridge any faster.”

Dragstrip followed, matching Bluestreak’s pace. He was blessedly silent for a couple hours, and Bluestreak used that time to watch the forest around them. He kept seeing little hints of animal life. A branch would shudder. A fern would swish.

“So the Autobots train you guys to actually think?” Dragstrip asked.

Bluestreak raised an optic ridge, looking sideways at the Stunticon. “Shocking, huh?”

Dragstrip snorted, the sound almost a laugh. “Real shocking. Why then would a thinking mech be an Autobot?”

Bluestreak shrugged. “There’s more to life than tyranny, destruction, and enslaving everyone that disagrees with you.”

“The strong _should_ rule the weak,” Dragstrip said, optics glinting a little.

“I agree,” Bluestreak said, smirking as the Stunticon’s mouth dropped open. “But the strong should also be fair and wise.”

Dragstrip snorted, this time nowhere near a laugh. “Autobot drivel.”

Bluestreak shrugged. He hadn’t expected to change the Stunticon’s mind, but he wasn’t going to allow the conversation to slip into an argument. He paused mid step, looking up into a tree. “We have an audience,” he said softly.

The creature was cat-like. That was if cats had smooth scales instead of fur. It was watching them with bright green, attentive eyes.

Fascinated by the unique animal, and taking a few image captures for showing off later, Bluestreak almost didn’t knock Dragstrip’s blaster aside in time. “The slag are you doing?!” he shouted. The shot went wild, bursting against a different tree’s trunk, but the animal dove away. The ferns and underbrush swished in its wake, and the entire forest went silent around them. “Didn’t you learn your lesson about shooting things a couple days ago?”

“Get off me!” Dragstrip snarled. “It’s been following us! _Tracking_ us!”

“Curiosity maybe? And do you really blame it for wanting to get a closer look at the weird metal things traipsing through its home? One little animal is not a threat to _us_! Primus!” Bluestreak growled, and moved closer to inspect the damage to the tree. It smoldered a little, a thin trail of smoke rising. He pressed his fingers against the glowing embers, extinguishing them so the tree wouldn’t catch fire. There was nothing he could do about the blackened crater.

“How do you know? Huh?” Dragstrip demanded. “Weren’t you just talking about thinking? Do some of that yourself!”

Bluestreak whipped around, and glowered at the Stunticon. “I am thinking! I’m thinking that if you provoke a fight, that’s what you’ll get. That’s why we had to shoot our way out of those tentacles! We have _days_ left to travel! I’d rather it not be spent running for our lives because we torqued off the local fauna! _Again_!”

“Coward,” Dragstrip sneered, and started up the trail again.

Bluestreak carefully cycled his respiration, pushing the anger down. It would not help him right now. He followed Dragstrip, watching for any signs of life. It was a while before the normal forest sounds returned, and he relaxed by degrees, but never completely. That edgy tension was back. The one that said now they really were in trouble.

The day waned with nothing else of interest happening. The bird-things sang, the bushes sometimes wobbled, insects flew here and there, and they walked. At least their coughs were easing. Bluestreak’s internal diagnostic reported a vast improvement from earlier in the day, and figured Dragstrip was doing just as well. They’d passed the time in relative silence. Bluestreak was too busy listening and watching the world around them, and Dragstrip seemed to be sulking of all things.

“Hey, look. Bats,” Dragstrip said, pointing.

Bluestreak looked up through the tree branches and saw, silhouetted against the red sky of sunset, fluttering shadows. “Weird if they were like Earth bats.”

They kept walking, optics on the shadows here and there, swooping and diving. As they got closer, more and more appeared. Bluestreak watched, following one of the creature’s seemingly random paths, trying to get a good look at it. “Not a bat,” he said. In fact, if he were pressed to describe it, he’d go with some weird cross between a bat and a bird, but with scales and a fish-like mouth.

“Funky looking.”

Bluestreak nodded, wandering carefully closer, only to stop and glare back at Dragstrip. “No. Shooting.” The Stunticon rolled his optics, but held his hands out to the sides, palms out, empty. Bluestreak continued on, watching as the air filled with more and more of the creatures. “Looks like they’re coming from over there.” He took a few image captures, glancing periodically at Dragstrip. He didn’t trust him at all not to suddenly decide to take a few pot shots at them.

“There’re coming from the ground?” Dragstrip said edging closer too. “How are there so many?”

Bluestreak reached out and stopped Dragstrip. “Caves.” He shrugged. “Earth bats live in caves. Let’s get back on the trail where we can see.”

“You really are a coward. It’s getting dark, don’t you want to huddle against a tree?”

Bluestreak blinked. “Wow. I know a little sparkling that needs a nap.” He turned back to the game trail, retracing his steps.

Dragstrip followed, stomping, a low growl resonating. “I can’t wait to get back and tell all the other ‘Cons about how you were afraid of a little cave.” He passed Bluestreak, turning to walk backward so his smirk could be seen. “Or is it the little bat things? Poor Autobutt scared of the lit- aah!”

Bluestreak snickered, and stepped over the root Dragstrip had just tripped backwards over. “Just _thinking_ ,” he said, emphasizing the word, “that it’d sure suck slag to fall into a cave. That’d set us back. So why go poking after creatures that aren’t bothering us?”

Dragstrip curse vilely as he climbed to his feet. “I fucking hate you!”

Bluestreak grinned over his shoulder, flicking his doorwings. “I’m ambivalent,” he said honestly. It was just more fun to confound with the truth. Dragstrip glared, grumbling as he marched up beside him, and Bluestreak wondered if he actually knew what the word meant or not, but decided not to tease too much more. He’d get a fight. One of them would definitely get hurt, and that would suck slag too. Dragstrip continued to swear, muttering a rant beneath his breath that Bluestreak only caught every third word of.

They walked well into the dark since the trail was easy to follow, but Bluestreak picked another tree with nice thick roots when he noticed Dragstrip’s optics dimming. He followed the same routine, taking out the energon, drinking his fill, handing it to Dragstrip who would choke a few mouthfuls down. He wasn’t taking enough, but since he was still on his feet, Bluestreak didn’t argue. They settled in between the roots of a tree, and Dragstrip dropped into recharge almost immediately.

Bluestreak ran his diagnostics again, and popped a condensed cube into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he redirected his self-repair to the most damaged components. His dents were healing slowly, less crucial than the gashes, but all of that had been put on hold for his filters. They were more or less fine now, so he set his systems back on the open cuts, then relaxed, listening to the forest around them.

~ | ~

Bluestreak woke, body tense and still. He slowly onlined his optics, and saw the creature perhaps four meters straight out in front of him, crouching by the underbrush. Even in the dim, tree-filtered starlight, its eyes shone. It also knew he was awake, body as just as unmoving as his.

Bluestreak relaxed, inspecting the animal. He knew from before that the scales were green or brown depending on how the light struck them, but it looked black now. A darker shadow amidst shadows. All except for those eyes. They reflected curiosity, at least Bluestreak thought it looked curious. He might be assigning too much to an alien forest creature. He was sure curious.

Listening closely to Dragstrip to be sure he was in recharge, Bluestreak then purred softly. Ears perked forward, and the fern rustled as the creature’s tail swished. It eyed him another moment then crept forward a few steps, belly close to the ground, cautious. Bluestreak purred again, as low and deep as he could make it. He smiled as it moved a few steps closer.

It was rather large, at least compared to Earth’s great cats. Bluestreak had seen pictures of humans next to lions and tigers. They were much smaller. This creature would be about as tall as his mid-thigh were Bluestreak standing.

A chirp came from the bushes, and one of the creature’s ears swiveled back, its tail flicking. Bluestreak ran a quick scan, and his optics widened in surprise. There were more! He counted a dozen and a half still hidden from view. The chirp repeated, more urgent sounding, Bluestreak thought, and the creature turned to look back over its shoulder. The sound it made was a mix of chirrup and trill.

And loud.

He imagined it sounded annoyed, and smiled.

That smile was instantly gone as Dragstrip jerked awake, swore, and fired.

Bluestreak scrambled to his feet as the Stunticon did, shouting, “What did you do?! Why did you _do_ that?!” He saw movement from the underbrush, and grabbed Dragstrip’s wrist in time to stop the next shot.

He looked over at the creature. It was obviously dead, a darker shadow spreading on the ground under it. An even larger one was chirring and chirping at it, nudging a shoulder, the head, licking an ear. Bluestreak thought his spark might be breaking. “How could you?” he whispered.

“I thought you watched at night!” Dragstrip shouted, his voice painful in the silence of the forest. “Why the fuck did you let that _thing_ get so close to us?! Let go of me!” He tore his arm out of Bluestreak’s grasp, then cursed, and pointed it back at the larger animal.

“No!” Bluestreak made another grab, and caught the barrel of the blaster, jerking it upward.

“Let go! It’s going to attack!”

“Because you killed its pack mate!” Bluestreak shouted right back. “Primus! What is _wrong_ with you! They’re harml- aah!!” He looked down at the outside of thigh where three parallel gashes had appeared, then at the creature.

Its ears were cocked forward, focused on the pink-purple of Bluestreak’s blood that glowed on its claws. He stared in shock, stepping back, hissing as the wound pulled. He quickly rerouted his self-repair, and went still as the ears laid back, and green eyes locked on him. A low growl filled the air.

A flash of red, and the creature dropped like a stone.

Bluestreak turned incredulous optics on Dragstrip. “Stop! Killing! Things!” He stumbled a little as he shifted his weight, his thigh burned, and he prayed these things didn’t scratch with acid. “I can’t believe… Shit!”

“I just saved your life!” Dragstrip had the nerve to give Bluestreak a smug grin. “And what was that about cussing in squishy?”

 _I live with humans,_ he thought, but shook his head slowly. “You have no idea what you’ve just done.” On his scanners the other _seventeen_ were shifting, utterly silent as they moved into recognizable attack position. “We need to run.” That was going to fragging hurt like a bitch! “There’s too many.”

“What?” Dragstrip blinked, looking for a moment as stupid as Bluestreak currently thought him.

“I’m going to spin around, and hightail it up the path.” He watched on his scanners, waiting until the one trying to get above them was on the far side of the tree. Primus! They _hadn’t_ been a threat until Dragstrip shot the smaller one. He waited a pulse, then another. “Run!”

Without waiting to see if Dragstrip followed him, Bluestreak spun on his good leg, and ran like the Unmaker was after him. It did hurt. Fire burned up and down his leg as a horrifying howling filled the night.

Bluestreak heard the distinct sound of transformation behind him, and swore. He dove into his alt mode, bouncing, snarling as the injury pulled, and damage from the crash rippled a duller pain across his circuits.

“Go faster!”

He hated that Dragstrip was right. He accelerated, bouncing and rattling around over the uneven trail. He focused his scanners ahead, and went even faster, the Stunticon right behind him.

“Turn on your fucking lights, you moron!”

“So some other animal can get caught in them and die tonight? Get slagged! Stay on my aft, and shut up so I can focus!”

They raced on for over an hour, the sky beginning to lighten to pre-dawn indigo before Bluestreak slowed. He turned his scanner out to the sides and behind, and had nothing but Dragstrip show up. He slowed more, ignoring Dragstrip’s snarking as he stopped and transformed.

It still slagging hurt.

Bluestreak looked at his thigh. Dried energon painted stripes over the plating of his leg, and the wounds still seeped.

“Not even that bad,” Dragstrip sneered. “Pussy.” He dropped with a cry of pain and surprise.

Bluestreak knew better than to lash out, especially with such a hard strike, but this wasn’t an Autobot he was dealing with. Optics cold, and voice flat, he said, “Don’t speak unless spoken to. If violence is the only thing you understand, I’m more than capable of handing it out.” Dragstrip opened his mouth, but snapped it shut in the next instant, looking at the muzzle of Bluestreak’s rifle, then up at his face. “Get up.”

Dragstrip obeyed -grudgingly- and Bluestreak slung his rifle to his back, then grabbed the energon, gulping down the last from that container. He was too angry to even taste it, which was something of a blessing. Next he took out a small med kit, and bent to patch the leaking lines. The anger served him pretty well. It hurt to push his fingers into the sliced metal of his plating to apply the direct patch, but he didn’t so much as wince.

When he was done, he started walking. Dragstrip sulked along beside him, and they walked until the sun was high overhead.

Bluestreak had lost himself in his own thoughts to help ignore the pain, and so didn’t catch what Dragstrip said the first time. He looked at the Stunticon, optics narrowing. “What was that?”

“I said ‘I’m hungry’. Is there any more energon?” He even sounded like he was still trying to behave himself.

Bluestreak was pretty sure vengeance would come on swift wings the moment he outlived his usefulness. As an answer, he pulled another container of shuttle fuel from his subspace, and handed it to Dragstrip, mentally daring the glitch to try running with it.

Dragstrip drank, more than usual, and still coughing from the taste. Bluestreak even heard his tanks churn a bit. He took the container back, and walked off, leaving the Stunticon to catch up when he got his tanks under control. Not like he wanted to hang around and watch, or be in range if Dragstrip failed in his effort. What he really wanted was to sit down and get some rest, let his leg heal a little, but they needed more distance between themselves and the pack.

Dragstrip caught up, and they walked in silence late into the day. Evening brought the funny bat things out again, but Bluestreak didn’t know if they had been sleeping the day hours away nearby, or back where they’d come from the previous night. Like everything here seemed to be, they were larger than anything similar on Earth, but still small enough he hoped they weren’t a threat. He shot Dragstrip a glare, but the Stunticon was walking with his arms swinging freely, and watching the creatures fly.

Once it was full dark, Bluestreak picked a tree back off the trail a little. He pulled his rifle forward and laid it across his lap as he sat. “Recharge,” he ordered, then had the pleasure of watching Dragstrip fidget a moment.

He grimaced, weight shifting first to one foot, then the other, and Bluestreak could practically hear the internal struggle. Swallow his pride and ask for the energon, or go hungry? “I’m hungry.”

That was hardly asking, but Bluestreak was in no mood for another verbal sparring match, and he knew how to pick his battles. He took out the energon, and held it out as the Stunticon sat to his right. When Dragstrip passed it back he drank plenty of it himself, this time unable to resist making a face. He half expected some snide comment, but a glance to the side showed him Dragstrip was already recharging.

Bluestreak put away the shuttle fuel, then ate one his cubes, pushing more power to his self-repair. It’d been all he could do not to limp by the time they stopped.

He set his scanners and proximity alarms just in case, then let himself doze. He would have preferred to stay awake and on guard, but he needed rest too.

~ | ~

Bluestreak’s optics snapped open as the internal alarm ripped him out of recharge. Beside him, Dragstrip’s systems hummed quietly, his limbs lax.

Something else then. Tense and alert, Bluestreak ran a fresh scan of the area. Coming slowly toward them was a single, large organic. That was better than the pack, but if it was the beast he suspected, they could still be in trouble.

“Dragstrip,” he said softly, lightly touching the Stunticon’s arm. Dragstrip jumped awake, blaster in hand. Bluestreak sighed, and gave him an annoyed look. “Your blaster _always_ the first thing you grab when you wake up? Primus.” He stood, wincing as his leg ached. “One of those big animals from the plain is coming. Least I think that’s what it is.” He glared at Dragstrip. “Put the blaster _away_ ,” he growled.

“Fine. Frag,” Dragstrip said, stowing his weapon, and holding his hands out to show they were empty.

Bluestreak frowned at the attitude, but really what had he expected. “Come on.” Dragstrip followed, muttering, but he seemed tense, optics scanning the dark forest. “It’s behind us, moving slowly,” Bluestreak said.

“Just safest to run, is that it?”

Bluestreak gave the Stunticon a bright smile. “Yep!”

Dragstrip growled, then huffed. “Least it’s not so hot yet,” he mumbled.

Bluestreak nodded agreement, keeping one scanner trained on the beast well behind them. He was pretty sure it couldn’t see them yet since he had his scanners maxxed and it was at the very limit of his reach, but he didn’t want to take any chances. In fact he’d like to put some nice distance between them and it. “Come on,” he repeated, and began jogging. Each step jolted his thigh, but it wasn’t _such_ a horrible injury that he couldn’t manage it. Getting to the space bridge was far more important.

Speaking of. “Are we still going the right way?”

Dragstrip trotted along beside him in silence for a moment. “More or less. Trail’s faster though for now, right? We wouldn’t be running through the trees at this pace.”

Bluestreak nodded again. “Right. And definitely not in the dark.” He relaxed just a little, shaking off some of the frustration and anger from earlier. If they could manage to get along for a little while, that would be really damn nice.

He wouldn’t hold his breath.

“Wait! Stop!” Dragstrip grabbed at his arm, and Bluestreak stopped, a little confused until he felt it too, and the large blip on his scanner was getting closer.

“Slag!” He pulled the Stunticon off the trail, and they ducked behind the trees. Bluestreak was a bit surprised that Dragstrip didn’t start in on another rant about cowardice, but one look told him all he needed to know. Dragstrip’s optics were wide and bright, his fingers clutching at the tree trunk.

The ground vibrated harder, a deep booming gallop filling the air. The beast was _massive_ , the dead one in the plain, hidden by grass and eaten away by acid had not seemed so immense. Bluestreak gasped as the ground trembled, the behemoth thundering by them. They remained crouched in the ferns until neither of them could detect even the slightest vibration in the ground.

“I wonder why it suddenly decided to run like that?”

“Ya know,” Dragstrip said, mouth twisting in irritation. “We’d’ve been perfectly safe back where we were recharging.”

Bluestreak heaved a sigh, rolled his optics, and stood. “Better safe tha-“ His scanners lit up with signals, and rather than argue, he grabbed Dragstrip’s wrist and started running again. “The cat things! Frag!” They were coming in fast too.

“What? Oh, come on! It can’t be the same ones. Why would stupid animals follow things they can’t eat so far?” Dragstrip paced him, however, glancing over his shoulder every few steps. “They’re probably after that big thing.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want any more gouges. How about you?” Bluestreak watched his scanners, but looking in all directions at once diminished his range. “It’s the whole pack.”

“The whole pack would be needed to take that thing down!” Dragstrip said, then cursed as he stumbled. “This is stupid!”

Bluestreak stopped, and looked back. “ _You’re_ the one that killed two of them!”

“They’re animals!”

“They’re _hunting_ us!”

“You don’t know that!”

Bluestreak launched himself at Dragstrip, taking them both to the ground. The Stunticon swore, throwing a punch at him, but Bluestreak just caught his wrist and pulled him to his feet as he got his own under him. He jumped back out of range of a swipe of sharp, flashing claws, then dove into his alt mode. “Oh, yes I do!” He intentionally spun his back tires, kicking up dirt and pebbles. Several angry howls echoed over the roar of his engine, and he shot forward.

Dragstrip yelled, and fired his blaster. Bluestreak shouted back, “Move it, ‘Con!” Like killing _more_ of them would help any? They were just going to get angrier! Bluestreak was… _had_ been hoping that if they ran far and fast enough, the creatures would just settle for having them out of their territory. He knew they weren’t like humans, wasn’t sure if they were sapient, but he had seen the intelligence in those eyes.

Dragstrip caught up, and Bluestreak focused his scanners forward, and picked up speed. However smart they were, they weren’t as fast as two cars. “Tell me _before_ you overheat. Got it?”

“Yeah,” Dragstrip said grudgingly. “Should be fine ‘til after the sun’s up a while.”

Bluestreak pushed a little faster, wondering where the big beast had gone. It would hurt to crash into that. Dragstrip stayed on his aft, and eventually they outdistanced the howling.

~ | ~

Their day had been blissfully uneventful, and Bluestreak finally called a halt late in the afternoon. He’d held their pace to about forty-five miles per hour -Ratchet was going to have fits over the realignment Bluestreak now needed- periodically checking Dragstrip for overheating. The Stunticon seemed fine, and it was only recently that he’d begun slowing down. Bluestreak could do with a break himself, so slowed to a stop, and transformed.

Bluestreak handed the shuttle fuel to Dragstrip as soon as he was standing, and looked around at the trees. Animals would have had to stop running long before now, and wouldn’t be able to cover the distance at anything close to the speed they had traveled. They were probably safe for the time being.

“How much farther?”

Dragstrip shuddered, handing the energon back to Bluestreak, then flopped to the ground. “Depends. We’re off course some.” He leaned back against the tree truck, and sighed. “We could leave the road. Walking? I don’t fucking know. Two more days? Day and a half? Fucking jungle slowed us down. I thought we’d be there by now.”

Bluestreak sat, and drank too, counting back and surprised to realize it really had been a week. “We’ll get there.”

“Get bent,” Dragstrip said tiredly. “Stupid happy Autobot dumbass.”

Bluestreak raised an optic ridge, leveling his gaze on the Stunticon. “Ok, then. We’re never going to make. It’s too hard. It’s too hot. The critters are gonna get us, and we’ll rust out here after they’ve shredded our frames, and eaten our sparks.”

“I hate you.”

Bluestreak chuckled. “Recharge a while. We can see how far we can get after dark when it’s a little cooler.”

Dragstrip muttered, but within minutes his chin was on his chest plates, his systems quiet. Bluestreak took out a couple of his condensed cubes and ate them, then put away the shuttle fuel. A quick inventory, and he relaxed. He had enough to last them a few more weeks at their current consumption, and he could always ration himself too. Dragstrip still wasn’t taking as much as he should, and it showed with the scratches and dents to his armor.

Bluestreak was healing well. Even his leg was doing better already. Part of him felt guilty. They only had two days, he had more than enough of the emergency rations to give Dragstrip a few, but as the Stunticon had reminded him again and again -in little, and not so little ways- he was a Decepticon. The enemy.

He sighed, and rested back against the tree, listening to the singing and warbling high above them. Soft-sparked. Who else would feel bad about _not_ giving energon to the mech just waiting to kill them? It was in Bluestreak’s best interests to let Dragstrip remain somewhat weak and injured. It wasn’t like he was sickly, falling down, and ready to drop into stasis. The shuttle fuel might taste like slag, and sure the emergency rations were concentrated nutrition, and therefore more healthy, but bad flavor wasn’t the same as starving him. Dragstrip hadn’t even purged. He could handle it, and Bluestreak would do well to remember that no matter how nice and giving he was, the mech next to him very well could put him in a position where he’d have to chose his own life over the Decepticon’s.

Bluestreak set his alerts and alarms again, and let himself slip into a light recharge. Soon. A few more days if the terrain got rough again, and he’d be able to stand in the washracks for a few hours, then crash safely in his own berth.

~ | ~

Bluestreak lurched from a dream of lying on his back watching the sunset to absolute silence. He looked around. The sun was setting, but nothing moved. His alarms weren’t going off, so what the frag? The silence made him nervous.

“Dragstrip,” he whispered, gripping the Stunticon’s arm.

Dragstrip jumped, optics flaring as his body went rigid. He opened his mouth, but Bluestreak quickly covered it, and shook his head. He motioned them up, moving slowly.

Dragstrip mimicked him, rising quietly to his feet. “Vines?” he asked, voice barely loud enough to reach Bluestreak’s audials.

Shaking his helm, Bluestreak extended his sensors forward as far as he could and turned in place. Nothing showed up. Nothing moved. He bit at his lower lip, then cocked his helm toward the path, and stepped carefully.

Nothing happened, but his hands itched for his rifle. Bluestreak glanced at Dragstrip, who seemed to be taking the situation seriously -thank Primus. They had only taken a few steps on the trail when his sensors exploded with contacts, all converging, from all directions. “Run!” he shouted, diving forward into his alt mode, and hitting the gas, Dragstrip right behind him.

“We could fight,” Dragstrip shouted over the roar of their engines and the howling of the creatures.

“They brought friends! Lots of frien- Oh frag!”

Ahead of them on the trail three of the creatures were charging. Bluestreak accelerated, honking his horn and swerving back and forth. Behind him Dragstrip swore, but the animals were in a headlong rush and not breaking away.

“Jump them!”

“Fuck!”

Bluestreak transformed at the last instant, the creatures already in the air. He jumped, twisted, flipping over them, one arching its head back to snap at him far too close for comfort.

His feet hit the ground, and he rolled backward, doorwings flaring as he came back up, feet sliding from the momentum. Behind Dragstrip and coming fast were dozens of them, many shooting out from between the trees, even some from above _in_ the trees.

“Let’s go, ‘Bot!” Dragstrip yelled as he shot by. He’d gunned it, and managed to get under the creatures without any noticeable damage. Of course at that speed and with the light fading fast, Bluestreak wouldn’t have seen anything unless the Stunticon’s whole spoiler was missing. He twisted, transforming again, and followed Dragstrip.

The trail was growing rougher. Bluestreak’s leg throbbed, his axles ached, and it was getting dark very fast. “We can’t keep this up!” he shouted. Dragstrip’s aft end bounced hard, tires popping up completely off the ground, and Bluestreak dodged to the right to miss the dip, only to jam his tire neatly into another small hole. “We’re going to slag ourselves!”

“Stop and kill them?”

Bluestreak snarled at the hopeful tone. “No. Just run on our damn feet.” He put actions to words, slowing only enough to avoid any fancy gymnastics to keep his balance after the transition, and ran. Dragstrip cursed of course, but another hole made him jolt sideways a few feet, and he transformed too. “We can’t stop, they keep finding us!”

“There’s a way to fix that!”

Bluestreak spared a glower. “No. We’re not killing more of them. You said about a day, right? So we run.” He stumbled over a dip, caught his balance with a curse, and continued. “They can’t catch us so long as we keep moving. We’ll get some distance, then cut straight to the space bridge.”

“They’ll catch up while we fight our way through.”

“We need to assume they’re smart enough to set a trap up ahead of us.” Bluestreak ignored Dragstrip’s snort of derision. “Think what you like, but they got help. They managed to creep in damn close under my sensors. They’re holding a _grudge_ , for Primus’ sake!” But they were only organic, and eventually they would need to rest. They could push on, outdistance the creatures, reach the space bridge without further death.

“If we fought, we could end up taking damage, or provoking a worse attack. Pits, let’s go with they’re dumb animals, and are just chasing a threat out of their territory.” Bluestreak could still hear the howls behind them, and frowned. They _were_ slower on their feet than tires, but- No, it felt wrong. “Frag that. We need off this trail.”

“Hey!” Dragstrip yelped as Bluestreak cut to the side, off the left side of the game trail.

He leapt a fern, leaning sideways to dodge around a tree. “You need to lead. Get your aft up here.” He flexed his doorwings back, and tucked them tight and low, then ducked a low branch. Or maybe that’d been a high root? He brushed the thought away and kept moving.

“This is insane!” Dragstrip said. He darted around the far side of another tree, then slipped in front of Bluestreak. “You’re gonna get us killed. We can’t possibly run fast enough through all this!”

Especially in the dark, Bluestreak thought. “We don’t have a choice.”

“Yes! We do!” Dragstrip gasped, and ducked, and Bluestreak instinctively did the same, running in a crouch under another branch. “We could stay on the trail! They’re _just_ animals!”

“Don’t know that,” Bluestreak insisted. Dragstrip grumbled something, but kept running.

~ | ~

They were gaining.

At first the howls had faded into the distance, and Bluestreak and Dragstrip moved as fast as they could through the thick trees and underbrush. But as predawn began to glow through the canopy, the howls returned. By dawn there was no denying the creatures were still relentlessly on their afts.

Snarls and low growls echoed eerily through the trees, and Bluestreak saw the flash of Dragstrip’s blaster. He resisted grabbing his own weapons, then nearly fell on his face as they suddenly burst out of the trees and into an open meadow.

“Come on!” he shouted, grabbing Dragstrip’s arm and pulling as the Stunticon tried to turn and fight. “Open land, we can outrun them!”

His vents were on high trying to shunt the heat away, and Dragstrip sounded even worse, but he kept running. The meadow grass was tall, but didn’t appear to be the same sort from the weird plain. It gave way easily, and in that moment Bluestreak would have happily taken acid grass and dead color nanites over having to kill the inhabitants of the forest and have his plating ripped up.

When the terrain changed suddenly again, Bluestreak did fall, face first, right into a slow, quiet river. Dragstrip splashed down next to him with a shout and curse.

“Fucking figures!” the Stunticon snarled, pushing to his feet. “Finally find water, and we can’t take a bath!”

Bluestreak scrambled to his feet, and stepped forward. It didn’t seem too deep, but the water was a bit murky. Not the brown of that lake by his crash site, but enough to hide the riverbed. He edged forward, grabbing Dragstrip’s wrist as he tried to turn back to fight.

“They’re _coming_!”

“I know. So move it.” He pushed Dragstrip forward, and hurried after him.

The river wasn’t very wide, but much of it was hidden by the grass. Luckily, it never got deeper than mid-thigh, and they made it to the other bank just as a loud, fierce cry rose from behind them. They both looked, Dragstrip swore some more, and even Bluestreak had to admit he was pretty creative about it.

Turning away from the very large cat-like creatures as the entered the meadow and seemed to group up, Bluestreak looked the direction they needed to go. The trees began again, but there was another trail.

Fine. They could run along it, and gain some distance.

“Dragstrip,” he said softly, then pointed out the trail. “Let’s go.” He glanced back, and the largest of the creatures was looking right at them. It threw its head up and howled, the others joining the call. “Come on! Run!”

Bluestreak took off, Dragstrip pounding along behind him, the noise almost deafening as the creatures gave chase. He heard the first splashes, and focused everything on making his legs pump faster. Each impact of his feet jarred his entire frame.

“Oh shit! Oh _shit_!”

Bluestreak risked a glance back, but the creatures weren’t even across the water yet.

“The ground!” Dragstrip yelled, the fear audible in his voice.

The ground? Bluestreak looked back again, and saw the first of the creatures skid to a halt as the ground simply disappeared, swallowed by a blackness. A few didn’t stop in time, and squealed as they fell.

It was like something out of a movie, Bluestreak thought, trying to run faster, Dragstrip right on his heels. The ground was crumbling away, nearly from under their feet. He could feel as it shifted.

In utter desperation, not expecting it to work, Bluestreak leapt forward. He landed hard, plating clanking off the hard-packed ground. Dragstrip cried out, and Bluestreak spun without thinking about it, and reached. He was damn surprised when he caught the Stunticon’s wrist, and nearly forgot to brace himself for the sudden added weight. His shoulder pulled, and he gritted his teeth.

“Pull me up! Pull me up!”

“Slagging hold still!” Frag! Hysterical and kicking was not going to help.

“There’s nothing! Shit! Fuck!” Dragstrip kicked, and struggled, his other hand missing as he tried to swing up and grab Bluestreak’s arm with that hand too. “Pull me up before it-“

Bluestreak felt the ground soften beneath him a split moment before it gave way completely. The world inverted, and he fell, watching Dragstrip’s optics go wide, and nearly white from the fear, mouth open.

They hit before any sound could escape, splashing down into cold water so quickly Bluestreak had no chance to get his vents closed. After being hot for so long, the chill of the water was both painful and a relief. He didn’t fight it as his vents flooded, simply stalling his respiration so it wouldn’t get worse, and sinking calmly. He kept a tight grip on Dragstrip’s wrist. It wouldn’t do to get separated now.

Dragstrip was somewhat less calm. The water churned around Bluestreak as the Stunticon thrashed. His free hand touched rock through a fine layer of silt, and Bluestreak turned on his headlights. The water was a murky reddish brown, but he wasn’t sure if that was the usual color, or if the land above caving in had caused it. He pulled Dragstrip closer, feeling until he got one of his ankles, and set his foot on the ground.

Bluestreak winced as Dragstrip’s flailing arms smacked a doorwing, but he managed to find and grab the Stunticon’s other foot and plant it on the ground as well. Dragstrip stilled, and Bluestreak rolled his optics while pulling his own feet under himself, and standing.

He had to stand on the very tips of his feet, but he was able to get his face above the surface. Dragstrip popped up in front of him, optics still wide, but back to their usual red. He still had a grip on Bluestreak’s arm, and Bluestreak turned his hand to get a fresh grip on Dragstrip again. Who knew if the water got deeper?

First things first. Bluestreak looked up, the sky brilliant through the hole above them. Bits of dirt crumbled and fell here and there, and the only sounds he could hear were the water and Dragstrip choking it from his vents. Bluestreak wondered where the creatures that had fallen had gone. Maybe they couldn’t swim either? At least they weren’t attacking.

He began to inspect the walls, and frowned. They’d fallen into a domed cave. There was no way to climb out. Bluestreak turned his attention to the water. There were two darker patches in the cavern walls. His scanners showed they were tunnels, but he didn’t know which one would be better to try.

Bluestreak cursed, or tried to, and ended up coughing the water from his own vents. Frag, but he hated flooded vents! When he had them cleared he looked at Dragstrip, took in the tight expression and wide optics. “Which way is the space bridge?”

Dragstrip turned incredulous optics on him. “Why? You gonna teleport us there? How the fuck are we gonna get out of here?!”

Bluestreak shook his helm, and pointed. “Tunnels. Which one is the direction of the space bridge?”

“Are you fucking out of your mind?! How do you know it even goes-“

Dragstrip cut of his rant with a squeak as Bluestreak gripped his throat and pulled him in nearly nose to nose.

“Calm. Down. Or I will drown you here, and find my own way.” It was an empty threat. Not like the water would kill either of them, but with the way Dragstrip had panicked, and how his optics went wide now, Bluestreak would bet he didn’t know any better. “Which tunnel goes more toward the space bridge?”

Dragstrip pulled back, and Bluestreak let him go, watching silently. “That one,” Dragstrip said after a moment, pointing. Bluestreak nodded, and stepped carefully toward it.

They seemed to have landed in the deepest part of the pool, as every few steps lifted them out of the water. As they neared the mouth of the tunnel, Bluestreak could feel the current pushing him forward. It wasn’t terribly strong, but at thigh deep it would have slowed them down had they needed to walk against it. The tunnel was wide, and the underground river became even more shallow as they walked.

“I know you’re scared and all, but you don’t have to hold my hand,” Dragstrip said.

Bluestreak smirked, and let go. It’d only taken the Stunticon ten minutes to realize he was still clinging to Bluestreak. The sensor nodes in his forearm buzzed a little from the sudden release of pressure.

They walked on in silence for a while, Bluestreak enjoying the slight babble of the river, liking how it echoed. It helped him not feel buried, and he needed all his wits about him. His headlights didn’t illuminate very far into the blackness, but he kept them on, for Dragstrip as much as for himself, as well as to hopefully spot any other cave openings that might lead to the surface.

As on so many other days, Dragstrip didn’t remain quiet for too long now that all the harrowing stuff like running for their lives was over. He turned to bitching and ranting. How they should have just turned and fought, or stayed on the trail. Bluestreak let him go, focusing on the hollow echo that told him the roof of the cave was still well above their heads. The words flowed through and around him, not really bothering him since he was thinking the same things.

What if they had stayed on the game trail? What if they had killed more of those creatures?

No. It felt wrong to even think, especially as he recalled the intelligence and curiosity in that first one’s eyes. That, and he was an Autobot warrior. If he didn’t at least _try_ to live by the ideals of his people then he might as well just be a Decepticon. Senseless, thoughtless murder was their thing. As Dragstrip continually proved.

Eventually the Stunticon lapsed into silence again, time stretching oddly around them. Bluestreak checked his chrono one time, and was surprised at how little time had passed. The next time he checked it, he was shocked to realize the world above them would be dark, that hours had passed. He pulled the shuttle fuel from his subspace and filled up, then passed it to Dragstrip, who winced, but drank.

The energon was thrust back into Bluestreak’s hands, and he snickered as Dragstrip fought to keep it down. “You really should get used to it,” he said. “Primus knows what survival situation you’ll be tossed into next.” And just because he wanted to push back for all the violence and damage Dragstrip had caused the past few days, he added, “Pits, this one time, I had to suck the energon from a mech’s lines before he deactivated. I mean he was going to anyways, so it’s not like I killed him, and he actually saved my life, and he was unconscious.”

Bluestreak pretended not to see the disgusted look on Dragstrip’s face, and babbled on. “Actually, if I remember right, his blood tasted better than the shuttle fuel, so that’s probably a bad example. It was warm and sweet and kinda tangy, but just a little-“

“Shut up!” Dragstrip’s bellow bounced off the cavern walls, and Bluestreak laughed as water was kicked at him. “Fuck! You are twisted and sick, and that should really be saying something coming from me! What’s your precious Prime think about you vampiring mechs and forcing others to drink sludge?!”

Bluestreak beamed, and kept walking, not bothering to answer. It wasn’t really a funny story. Having to mercy kill a friend you knew you couldn’t save, then having to chose just how much _you_ wanted to live, and whether you could do the unthinkable. No, not funny, but he liked to think Axel may have giggled with him if he could have seen the look on Dragstrip’s face.

~ | ~

They were forced to walk through the night as there was nowhere to stop and rest. The river had deepened to the point where sitting would put their helms under water, and it was definitely too cold for Bluestreak to recharge like that. He was pretty sure Dragstrip wouldn’t be able to manage it either, so onward they went.

Eventually Dragstrip began whining again, and it was definitely the whining of a tired sparkling. Bluestreak plodded forward, offering the energon, but was unable to really do more. Dragstrip turned his nose up at the shuttle fuel, blaming everything from the crash to the temperature and depth of the river on Bluestreak. He was getting very tired of it.

Bluestreak drank the energon, then put it away, and kept walking. “You complain a lot,” he said. “I mean, for a big tough Decepticon, you complain a _lot_. It’s too hot. It’s too cold. That energon that I need to live tastes icky, I don’t want it,” he mocked, and shook his head. “I should be recording all this. The others would get a laugh out of it. Hey, listen to this, guys! Bluestreak barely talking, and Dragstrip acting like a spoiled baby because his porridge wasn’t just right.”

“Shut up!”

“You shut up,” Bluestreak shot back. “Seriously. Do I need to act like a ‘Con to get you to stop crying about the situation for five minutes? What would Megatron do? Pits, what would Motormaster do? Can I shoot you in the face too? Would that give my audials a break? I mean I know all about talking others’ audials off, but at least I don’t _whine_ all the slagging time.

“And for the record, us being here is _all_ your fault. I was happily flying back to Earth, all relaxed and listening to some music files Jazz gave me, and then suddenly I’m under attack.” Bluestreak jabbed a finger at Dragstrip. “ _Your_ fault. You’d have been home last week if you’d just left me alone, but since you didn’t, you’d be dead by now if not for me. So do us both a favor, suck it up and deal with it, and stop bitching for a little while.”

Dragstrip sulked, but was blessedly silent. Really, it would have been fine with Bluestreak if the kid wanted to babble on about this or that, but Primus! Couldn’t he _pretend_ he was a warrior for a little while?

Then again, how much worse would things be for Bluestreak if Dragstrip _did_ act like the typical Decepticon warrior now? All right. He should watch what he wished for, and just be happy the brat was quiet. And since baby needed a nap, baby would get one if they could find a dry side-tunnel or some shore. Something.

It was a few more hours before the river became shallow enough to stop. Ankle deep and cold, it ran by slightly faster, but at least they could stop and rest. Dragstrip was in recharge practically the moment his aft landed on the riverbed. Bluestreak took the time to set his alerts and sensors, then grabbed a couple of his emergency rations. He shut his optics, and turned off his headlights.

Sitting felt odd. Like he was still moving, but planting a hand on the riverbed, he knew he wasn’t. What had it been? They’d walked a day and a half? Well, correction. Ran, then fell, then walked for a day and a half. He sighed, helm resting back against the cavern wall. They had sure gotten lucky. That fall could have been so much worse. Not that Bluestreak wanted to dwell on that now. They’d lucked out, and he would take that. Sometimes luck was all you had, right?

~ | ~

Bluestreak woke slowly, his right side far warmer than it should be considering how chilled the rest of his frame was from the cool air and colder water he sat in. It took a moment to realize Dragstrip was curled against him.

He opened his optics in shock, then gasped.

He’d expected utter blackness, but instead the tunnel glowed with a soft, very dim red light. Imbedded in the walls were thousands… _millions_ of crystals. Small clusters glittered a few feet above the river’s surface, their sizes increasing higher up the walls and across the ceiling. Some were as big as his fist.

“Whoa,” Bluestreak breathed. _Oh, man, Beachcomber! You’d freak out in here._ He nudged Dragstrip, trying to get the Stunticon to move. When that didn’t work, he sighed, and simply stood up.

Dragstrip splashed, yelped, and came up sputtering, but Bluestreak ignored him. He crossed to the far wall, and reached up fingers brushing over a pretty crystal point about the length and thickness of his smallest finger.

It was tempting. Very tempting to break it off and take it home. Beachcomber and Perceptor would probably love to have a unique sample to test and poke at. Beachcomber would probably just like having something so pretty too, but he would probably also debate for leaving this world as untouched as possible. Bluestreak settled for some image captures, rather enthralled himself with the results.

“It wasn’t like this before,” Dragstrip said, voice oddly hushed.

“No,” Bluestreak said softly, smiling as he touched a few more crystals, and startled a funny little gecko thing into scuttling farther up the wall. “But my headlights would have been too bright for us to see their glow.” He also suspected that by the time they stopped neither of them had been paying the least attention to the cavern walls. “Good thing we can see them now though. Look.” He pointed to a dark gap up ahead in the left wall. “Side tunnel. What do you think, how are we for our course?”

Dragstrip shook his head as they walked toward the intersection. “We’re too far to the left already.” Bluestreak could feel the stronger pull of the current, and the tunnel was more narrow as well. “I don’t think so. We should stay in this one,” Dragstrip said.

“Ok.” Bluestreak headed downstream, drinking in the pretty glow from the crystals. Some of the larger ones even seemed to pulse a little, but that could have been his optics playing tricks on him in the dim light. “I like this one better anyway. It didn’t look like the crystals went very far in the other one.”

“That’s gotta be the dumbest reason I’ve ever heard for choosing a direction. Hey, let’s go this way! It’s pretty!” Dragstrip snorted, but Bluestreak caught him looking at the walls with wide wondering optics.

They passed by more side tunnels, but they all led off to the left. When they finally came across an opening on the right, it was so narrow that they agreed to go on as they were with just a shared look. The river itself never rose back over Bluestreak’s knees, and they both stopped in their tracks as the tunnel suddenly opened out into a huge cavern, and stood there, mouths gaping in awe.

Crystals lined the walls, red then fading upward to a rusty orange color on the cave’s roof that reminded Bluestreak of the Ark. They had to be huge. _Had_ to be. They hung from the ceiling like glowing, pulsing, glittering stalactites.

“Primus,” he whispered, staring.

“If you’re done gawping,” Dragstrip began, “I think I see our way out.” He pointed forward, just a little to the right. The lake had a crystal-strewn shore, and beyond that another tunnel entrance. “Come on.”

“Wait!” Bluestreak grabbed Dragstrip’s arm. “Be careful. We don’t know how deep it is. A drop-off could trap us under water with no way back up.”

He took point, staying close to the wall rather than walking straight across as Dragstrip had been about to do, and inched along. It got a little deeper, and Dragstrip sighed and muttered behind him about being slow, but Bluestreak wasn’t about to let stupidity and impatience land them in another mess. He checked, and rechecked every step before moving forward, right up until he could see the ripples in the water breaking against the shore.

“See?” Dragstrip snarked. “Nothing to worry about.”

“You’re gonna die one of these days, and it’s not going to be in combat. It’s going to be some stupid, preventable event and because you were too impatient to use a little common sense in unknown terrain.” That little lecture earned Bluestreak a glare. He shrugged, and motioned for Dragstrip to lead the way into the new tunnel. He thought it might be wishful thinking, but the air smelled a little different.

Bluestreak hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking. He was ready to get out, and get to the damn space bridge already.

At first the new tunnel was no different except for the lack of a river going through it, and it being a little narrower, the ceiling a bit closer to their helms. The crystals thinned out, the glow becoming darker when it had never been terribly bright to begin with.

After a couple hours, the quality of the echoes changed. Bluestreak and Dragstrip’s footsteps didn’t chime back as much from ahead of them. Curious, and a little concerned, Bluestreak watched the walls and ceiling, but instead of a dead end, small patches of moss began to show between the crystal clusters. The moss had a faint red bioluminescence of its own, glowing brighter as it thickened.

It even grew on the ground, and while at first Bluestreak tried not to walk on it, that became impossible. Dragstrip hadn’t cared to begin with, but the moss didn’t seem to be too much worse for being stepped on by heavy mechs. If anything it glowed more brightly for a moment or two after they stepped on it.

“This is really pretty,” Bluestreak said, voice hushed as he collected image captures. They would help his formal report, and he knew the science bots would like seeing it. Maybe Sunstreaker too. He’d ask.

Dragstrip snorted. “It’s organic filth.”

“Still pretty.”

“Doesn’t make sense. What’s the point of it being pretty down here where no one ever sees it?”

Bluestreak gave the Stunticon a half-confused grin. “Like someone made it this way on purpose?” He chuckled. “It just grew here. Organic things just grow. I don’t know what purpose anything natural has in being pretty, but I don’t think it really matters.” He reached out to the wall, fingertips barely gliding over the moss.

“You know on Cybertron things grew too?” Bluestreak said. “In Praxus we had the Crystal Gardens. They were cultivated in some areas, but the middle of the Gardens were left wild and natural. Untamed.” He smiled at the memory and the way the moss brightened in a stripe from where he’d trailed his finger over it.

“Yeah, but what was the point of it?”

Bluestreak shrugged. “To be pretty. Why do you need more than that?”

“It’s wasteful,” Dragstrip said, the words sounding like something he’d heard, and learned to parrot. “If it doesn’t serve a purpose, then its worthless.”

“What’s wasteful is destroying something just because it doesn’t look like it does anything but sit there and be nice to look at,” Bluestreak replied. He probably shouldn’t allow himself to get caught up in yet another debate, but maybe he was -how did the humans say it?- planting seeds? Maybe Dragstrip would scoff now, but next time he destroyed something good, he’d remember this?

Probably not, but Bluestreak was bored, they really hadn’t walked far enough to justify another break, so why not?

“And what about the joy others take in looking at pretty things? Look,” Bluestreak said, stopping. He caught Dragstrip’s wrist and pressed his palm into the moss. Dragstrip tensed, and pulled his hand back, but his handprint was already there, glowing.

“So what?!”

Bluestreak fanned out his fingers, and trailed them along the wall as his walked, looking back at the four lines that followed him. He moved his hand up and down, making waves. “It’s just neat. Interesting. Don’t you take joy in _anything_? Simple pleasure for the sake of making yourself feel happy for a little while?”

Dragstrip was silent for a moment, then shook his head. “No.” He sounded confused, and Bluestreak took that as a good sign.

“You should try it.” He grinned, and slowed to write his name in glyphs, then in English, snickering, and adding a ‘was here’ after it.

“That’s stupid.”

“So?” Bluestreak giggled, and wrote more.

**Bluestreak is awesome!**

Dragstrip snorted, and trotted ahead to write his own message. The lettering in rough, scrawled English.

**No hes not**

Bluestreak laughed, running ahead, and writing, **Dragstrip’s a sourpuss!**

“Hey!”

The game degenerated to name calling from there, though Bluestreak laughed, and Dragstrip didn’t manage to suppress all of his chuckles. From that it went to who could string along the best curses. Bluestreak admitted defeat when he couldn’t stop laughing long enough to write anything else.

The kid, as one might have suspected from spending a week with him, could cuss.

“I think Ratchet might still be able to beat you, but that was impressive,” Bluestreak giggled as they walked along.

Dragstrip was grinning still too, and shook his head. “I’m surprised an Autobot even knows some of those words.”

“Puh-lease! Like my faction would matter in a swearing contest. And I’m pretty sure Ratchet could make even you blush. He’s got some good ones, though those are saved mostly for when the twins or Ironhide slag themselves up too bad and scare him good.”

Dragstrip shook his head. “Right. The medic? Ain’t he the softest spark you ‘Bots got?” He paused. “Next to Prime, I guess.”

Bluestreak raised an optic ridge. “Oh, come on. You telling me the horror stories haven’t reached you ‘Cons at all?” He huffed a laugh. “Go ahead and frag off Prowl. You’ll get brig time. Go ahead and frag off Ironhide. You’ll get your aft handed to you your next time on the training mats. Pits, you can even frag off Optimus Prime if you work hard enough at it, and all you’ll get is a lecture and some pretty heavy disappointment directed at you.

“But frag off Ratchet, and your audials will ring for a week. He can kick your aft too, but he usually doesn’t.” Bluestreak shrugged at Dragstrip’s continued doubting expression. “Hey, there’s a reason the twins will behave for him and no one else when they get all punchy.”

“Them I know about,” Dragstrip said, and snort derisively. “They’re the idiots the seekers are always bitching about for denting up their wings. They also like jumping on us gestalts when we’re combined. Stupid,” he snorted again.

“They’re pretty wild,” Bluestreak agreed. Pits, he couldn’t even argue about the ‘stupid’ comment. No matter how many times those ‘stupid’ moves had turned the tide of battle in the Autobots’ favor, they were still definitely stupid, and Ratchet made sure to tell them, loudly, every time he patched them up. It was sort of what frontliners did though.

Bluestreak didn’t want to accidentally teach their enemy any possible battle techniques, so changed the subject to life as a gestalt. It was something that fascinated many of the mechs about the Aerialbots, and seemed like something of a safe topic.

Dragstrip shrugged, and started talking. Some of the stories had Bluestreak suppressing doubting looks himself, but the Stunticon seemed content for the moment. He wasn’t whining or complaining, and they were making good progress through the caves.

When they stopped for rest, Dragstrip managed to get down a little more energon than he usually took. He shuddered, grimacing as he handed the container back to Bluestreak. “I can’t wait to get home just so I never have to drink _that_ again.” He lay down on his side, and within minutes his systems whirred quietly in recharge.

Bluestreak finished off the energon, and put the container away, popping one of the little cubes into his mouth before lying down to recharge as well. He only just remembered to set his sensors, surprised with how soft and springy the moss was. Primus, but it was nice to rest on something comfortable for a change.

~ | ~

Bluestreak woke first, sitting up and stretching. Dragstrip was still recharging, so he leaned back on his hands and relaxed a little, trying to let the tension drain away. Playing the day before had been really fun, and definitely helped his mood. If they could just get back up to the surface, they’d be to the space bridge in a day. Tops. Dragstrip was sure they were still going the right way, and Bluestreak had no choice but to trust him.

He sat in meditation for a while, then checked his chrono. Above it should be mid morning, and they really should get going.

“Dragstrip,” Bluestreak called. “Ready to get moving?” he asked as the Stunticon groaned and rolled over to his front to stretch out. Bluestreak took out the next container of shuttle fuel, drank, then held it out.

“Ugh. What a way to end a good night.” Dragstrip handed it back, choking a little.

Hoping to keep the peace, Bluestreak didn’t tease him. He stood, dusting off the bits of moss that clung to his armor, and waited for Dragstrip to rise too.

They set off at an easy pace, and for hours just walked, occasionally talking, but not always. It was nice. It was _really_ nice, and Bluestreak was caught between tensing up to be ready for the next blow up, and wanting to trust it. Or at least pretend to. Just for a little longer.

Some god somewhere was listening because they walked into early afternoon with their truce intact. It was then that Bluestreak’s spark gave an anticipatory pulse. The air was noticeably warmer, and definitely more humid, rather than the cool dampness from back by the river.

Dragstrip stopped, and held up a hand. He was quiet for a moment, then turned bright optics on Bluestreak. “Do you hear that?” he asked, the excitement bleeding through in his tone.

A slow smile spread across Bluestreak’s face, and he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I do! It’s those bat things!” he said as they both took off in a trot toward the sounds. The bat things meant an opening to the surface!

They were in a full run by the time daylight glimmered in a tiny patch of hope far ahead. The tunnel opened into a smallish, tree root-riddled cave that absolutely reeked.

Bluestreak slipped, nearly fell, but managed to catch himself with a hand on the wall. Dragstrip wasn’t so lucky, and his landing made Bluestreak wrinkle his nose up in disgust. The squelching was so much worse since he knew what it was.

“Ugh,” Dragstrip said, climbing back to his feet, and flinging the goop from his hands. “So much for that bath in the river we had. Fuck, this shit smells bad!”

Bluestreak bit his lip, and ruthlessly suppressed a laugh. _I should not tell him. I should not tell him. I should **not** tell him!_

“What?” Dragstrip asked. “Why do you look like you’re in pain? You didn’t even fall down.”

A snicker escaped, then another. “Bat shit,” the words squeaked out, and Bluestreak burst into laughter. “It’s bat shit!” Dragstrip’s expression was priceless, and Bluestreak took an image capture of it. He couldn’t resist, and the others would get a good laugh too when he told them about this.

“You… you’re making that up,” Dragstrip said, not sounding at all convinced that Bluestreak was, indeed, making it up.

Above them, wings rustled, and the ‘bats’ trilled and squeaked. Bluestreak kept laughing. Now that he had started, the laughter just wouldn’t stop, and Dragstrip’s look of horror was the funniest thing he’d seen in a good long while.

“It’s not funny!” Dragstrip shouted. “Fuck you! This is nasty!”

“Oh!” Bluestreak cackled, clutching the wall. “Fragging _gross_! But still funny.” He giggled when Dragstrip huffed, and then _carefully_ stomped toward the beam of sunlight. Bluestreak looked up at the animals on the ceiling, and then followed. They were moving a lot more, but then, he’d been laughing pretty loud, and Dragstrip’s yelling probably didn’t help.

Dragstrip glared at him as Bluestreak made his own cautious way over. “Done? Can we just get out of here now?”

“Yeah,” Bluestreak said, looking up. “Yeah, sorry,” he giggled. “Let’s go. I think we should be able to climb these roots. Well, I know I can, so can you?” It was only about six or seven meters to the surface, and the tree roots were rough enough to get a good grip on.

Dragstrip huffed, and leapt up to start his climb. Bluestreak stepped back a little, when the Stunticon’s grip slipped, and he fell back to the ground with a squelching splatter. Bluestreak bit his lip to keep from laughing again, but his shoulders shook. Dragstrip looked up at him, and roared.

“Oh, Primus!” Bluestreak chuckled, and pulled a spare cleaning cloth from his subspace. “What a tantrum, ya big… baby…” he trailed off, looking up as the cave filled with shrill screeching. He turned a flat look down at Dragstrip. “Now look what you did. You woke them all up. So your fault if we end up covered in that slag.”

“I’m already covered,” Dragstrip said, snatching the cloth for his hands as the bats milled around and fluttered near the ceiling of the cave.

Bluestreak held his hands up and shook his head as Dragstrip shoved the filthy cloth back at him. He could help the snicker in his voice. “No. You can keep it.” He turned to the nearest tree root, and began to climb as quickly as he could. The bats were being really loud now, and he was pretty sure he wasn’t imaging that they seemed angry. He sighed, pulling himself closer to the surface. Dragstrip was a just a natural at fragging off the local wildlife. At least this time it was only because he’d been loud.

And speaking of being loud.

Bluestreak glanced back as Dragstrip yelped and cursed. He wasn’t far behind on a different tree root, but he had a few of the little critters on him. “Ow! Fuck! They bite, goddamnit! They _bite_!”

Bluestreak reached up for another handhold, flicking a doorwing as one of the little things tried to land on it. “Well, hurry up and get out of here. They’re just mad you woke them up with your temper tantrum.” He smirked, optics focused on the ever closer surface.

The smirk died, and Bluestreak gasped as one managed to land on his back and _bit_ the hinge of his doorwing. Little fraggers had _sharp_ teeth.

“Toldja!” Dragstrip said, voice smug despite the sudden hissing intake that proved he’d just been bitten again too.

Bluestreak shuddered, flicking his doorwings, and climbed faster. It wasn’t even a difficult climb, he just didn’t want to fall back down. He gritted his teeth as more landed and bit. Some only got his armor, but more than a few managed to get their flat, fishy heads between transformation seams to bite his wiring and cables. Dragstrip was alternately yelping and cursing, his progress slower than Bluestreak’s.

He glanced back at Dragstrip, and frowned. Slag it. The Stunticon was practically covered in them. “Come on, Dragstrip!” Bluestreak shouted over the cacophony. “Just get to the surface. We’ll get them off.”

“Fuck you! I can handle a little pain!”

 _Never said you couldn’t. Primus!_ Bluestreak hauled himself up, batting a little animal off his hand so he could get a good grip and pull himself to the ground. He knelt, and gave himself a good hard shake, grinning as he imagined he looked like an overgrown metal dog after a bath.

They were swarming now, and kept diving back at Bluestreak. He looked around as Dragstrip snapped out another invective, seeing the Stunticon was going to be stuck against the trunk and have to risk a jump at a funny angle from the root he had climbed. Bluestreak darted around the base of the tree, and lay flat on his front. “Dragstrip!” He waved off a bat that flew at his face, then reached for the Stunticon. “Give me your hand!”

“No! Not falling back down there!”

Bluestreak hooked his feet under the arch of a root, growling as the cable in the back of his knee was bit, then _gnawed_ on. “The ground gave way then. Come on! This fragging hurts!”

Dragstrip glared up at him. “You drop me-“

“I won’t! Frag! Come. _On_!”

With a snarl, Dragstrip swung a hand out and caught Bluestreak’s wrist, then the other. Bluestreak pulled, then flared out his doorwings. “Climb over me, just don’t grab a wing.” The last thing he needed right now was a dislocated door.

Dragstrip obeyed, and Bluestreak grabbed his feet to help push him up and over the last bit. He winced as a doorwing took a jab from Dragstrip’s knee, and scrambled up. “Which way?”

Dragstrip flailed his arms, violently brushing off any of the bats that landed on him. “Frag! Ow! Fucking damnit!” He grabbed one that had latched onto his neck and flung it back into the cave. “This way!”

They ran, and Bluestreak was still a bit hard-pressed not to laugh. He could see it from the outside, like some TV show. Two dangerous warriors running and flapping their arms like idiots so the little bat-lizard-bird-fishy things wouldn’t kill them with a million tiny bites.

They broke into a clearing, still swarmed, the creatures not seeming too bothered by the bright sunlight. Bluestreak looked around nervously, remembering only too well the last field they’d run through. Dragstrip apparently did too as he slowed.

“Look!” Bluestreak pointed, and then ran toward the water, yelping himself as one of the bats managed to latch onto his chevron, and then bit his cheek. He knocked it away, feeling energon slide down his face.

Dragstrip pounded along beside him. “What if it’s deep?”

“We’ll be- Ow! Slaggit! We’ll be careful!” Bluestreak slowed at the edge, wading in carefully, step by step. Dragstrip stayed right by him, the animals buffeting them on every side, but thankfully, for all that they had fish-like heads, they didn’t go under the water. “Close your vents,” Bluestreak instructed when the water was about waist deep. He grabbed Dragstrip’s wrist, and sat, pulling the Stunticon with him.

Now to just wait the little slaggers out, and they could trot over to the space bridge and finally get off this rock.

Bluestreak watched the silt they had stirred up begin to settle, and the swirl of their energon blood in the water. It wasn’t nearly as cold as the cavern lake and river had been, but it was comfortable enough that they weren’t at any immediate risk of overheating without their respiration. He looked over at Dragstrip. His optics were bright, and he had his face turned up toward the surface. He looked really uncomfortable, and Bluestreak wondered if he wasn’t actually a little afraid. True, deep water could become a problem, but more because of starvation -it was tough to drink energon under water- or due to pressure if it was deep enough. Just sitting here in tepid water with their vents closed wasn’t going to harm them.

Deciding some distraction might be good while they waited, Bluestreak let go of Dragstrip’s wrist and started rubbing at the sticky slime from the cave floor. Dragstrip gave him a sharp look, but didn’t pull away. When rubbing alone didn’t work too terribly well, Bluestreak scooped up some of the gravelly sand, and began to work that around. That did a better job, and Dragstrip pulled his hand away, getting a handful for himself and washing himself. Hands, then feet. He was curled into a funny position on his back scrubbing at the backs of his thighs and aft when Bluestreak looked back, satisfied that he was as clean as he was going to get without help.

Bluestreak blinked, then giggled silently. He tapped Dragstrip, and motioned for him to flip over. Dragstrip eyed him, but apparently he wanted the slag off more than he wanted to avoid Bluestreak touching him.

The water was cloudy, and hard to see through, but Bluestreak did his best. When he was done he settled on his front, crossed his arms and rested his helm on them, and then grinned at Dragstrip. The Stunticon rolled his optics, but knelt, and set to work. He wasn’t even as rough as he could have been. It took far less time for Dragstrip to finish Bluestreak’s back, but then he hadn’t fallen, _twice_ , into the mess.

Bluestreak smiled his thanks, then looked up. He rose slowly, peeking just his optics above the surface, and then waving Dragstrip up when he wasn’t immediately dive-bombed. He stood, flicking his doorwings to get the water off of them, and blowing hard out of his intakes to clear them. They really hadn’t been under long, only about forty-five minutes.

Bluestreak grinned, chuckled a little, and made his way to the shore. “That’s going to make for an interesting section of my report. Primus, I can just see Prowl’s face as he goes over it.” He giggled. “And then, totally covered in bat shit, oh, sorry, Prowl, bat feces, me and Dragstrip took off running, and jumped in a lake, where we managed to get-“ he checked himself over, “Huh. Managed to get it all off.” Bluestreak giggled again, and looked Dragstrip over.

Dragstrip shook his head, and trudged out of the lake. “I’m leaving it out of mine. In fact, I’m not filing one at all unless I’m threatened with death.”

Bluestreak shook and wiped off what water he could, and then asked, “Which way? And how long do you think it’ll take?”

Dragstrip looked around, then pointed to the left. “That way, and only a little bit, but I don’t want to run across any more fields. We should be out of these trees soon, then you’ll be able to see it.” He narrowed his optics. “I have the activation codes and coordinates. Don’t forget that.”

“I promised, and I have no intention of going back on my word. We get to Earth, we go our own ways, and the truce is over next time we see each other on the battlefield.” Bluestreak settled into step next to Dragstrip. “At least we’re almost there. No more nasty shuttle fuel for you. Unless, of course,” he said with a teasing grin, “you’re hungry and want some now? I’m still bound by my promise to share too.”

“Ugh! Hell no.” Dragstrip made a face, but kept his optics on the ground.

Bluestreak couldn’t blame him. He was rather distrustful of the ground too, and apparently the trees being around might not really mean they were safe. The roots they had climbed were somewhere around thirty-five feet long, and had plunged into the cave floor to go on growing who only knew how far down. Bluestreak longed for Earth, where at least he knew that the ground he walked on most of the time was stable and solid.

“First thing I’m doing when I get back,” Dragstrip said. “I’m getting a cube of _real_ energon. Then I’m kidnapping Deadend, and locking us in the washracks. Fragger’s depressing as all hell, but he can detail like no one else.”

Bluestreak laughed. “I’ll have to report, then Ratchet will want to fix me up, but then it’s a toss up. I could ask the twins, or I could ask Tracks maybe. I might even be able to get Mirage to do it.” How many times had they helped one another after returning from a mission? That was long ago, before Earth, but maybe he should ask Mirage? Yeah. That’d be good. The quiet mech was always so calm and soothing to be around. Bluestreak could do with some calm and soothing. And maybe, if Mirage wasn’t busy, or had a shift to get to and was willing, they could curl up together for recharge. It’d be _really_ nice to have someone watching his back for the night after all this.

That took him to wondering if Dragstrip would get to curl up and recharge with his gestalt. The image was too cute to ignore. A little puppy pile of Stunticons, just like the Aerialbots did after one of them had a close call. He knew it wasn’t likely though. Nothing in their week and a half together had given Bluestreak a reason to think the Decepticons encouraged or accepted that sort of behavior.

He also reminded himself that the moment they got to the space bridge, he had outlived his usefulness. In fact he was a little surprised Dragstrip hadn’t turned on him yet. The only reason he could think of for that, was that Dragstrip was worried something might still go wrong, which was smart of him, or that he actually intended to honor their agreement.

That second was a little tough to believe, but Bluestreak couldn’t help but hope. He didn’t want to have to fight anymore. He was tired, and missed his friends, and really just wanted to go home. Maybe, just maybe, Dragstrip felt the same way. Or, well, at least _really_ wanted that hot shower and detailing from his brother more than to shoot Bluestreak.

“At least it’s quiet,” Dragstrip said. “I liked that about the caves. The quiet and the cool air. Can’t wait to get off this rock, and back to base. Sick of slagging heat.”

Bluestreak frowned a little. Oh well, he could put up with whining for a little bit longer. Then it struck him, and he froze. It _was_ quiet. Unnaturally so, and even without Hound’s lessons, it would have made him nervous after what previous silences had brought. He quickly reached out, and snagged Dragstrip back by his shoulder.

“The frag-“

“Shh!” Bluestreak switched on his sensors and swept the area. “Oh no,” he breathed. “They found us.” He turned, looking back behind them. Dragstrip turned as well, and they both stared in shocked silence.

Sliding out from under large leafy plants, slinking from between the trees, were the cat-like creatures. The largest one, the one that had stared them down from across the meadow before they fell, stood directly in front of them now. Others were fanned out in a semicircle, and Bluestreak’s sensors told him they were behind them as well.

“We’re completely surrounded,” he said softly.

“We can shoot our way out,” Dragstrip said, though he kept his tone as soft and even as Bluestreak’s.

“We’re sorry about the ones you lost,” Bluestreak said to the big one. “We just want to go home.” The large creature snarled, and all the others began to growl too.

“Maybe you should try Spanish?” Dragstrip snarked. He heaved a sigh when Bluestreak didn’t move. “Ok, look, I get the whole you’re an Autobot thing, but they aren’t going to let us go, and I’m not going to die this close to home for _your_ pansy-ass ideals,” he whispered heatedly.

“I don’t like killing,” Bluestreak said.

“Yeah, but you’ve done it.” The large one’s growl grew in volume as Dragstrip’s voice did. “Your life or theirs?”

Bluestreak gritted his teeth, and pulled both blasters, firing at the ground right in front of the large one. “Run!” He spun around, and fired again and again, careful to aim at the ground. He heard Dragstrip curse, but the Stunticon only shot at the ground. His aim wasn’t as good as Bluestreak’s, and a few of the creatures ended up wounded, but hopefully they wouldn’t die from the injuries. And it _did_ take them out of the fight.

It worked for a little bit, but that might have been because the trees. As soon as Bluestreak and Dragstrip stepped out into the open, the pack was on them. Bluestreak gasped as sharp claws rent his thigh plating. Thank Primus, it wasn’t the same spot as last time. He fired at the ground, but the creature took another swing at him. Then another snapped, teeth closing where Bluestreak’s hand had just been.

“Fuck this!” Dragstrip jammed his blaster right into one’s mouth and pulled the trigger. All around them the creatures froze. “Yeah, mother fuckers! See that!” he shouted. “Now you believe us? Huh?!” One launched forward, and Dragstrip shot it too. It flopped dead at their feet.

Bluestreak carefully put away one blaster, and pulled his rifle off his back before putting the other away. Dragstrip shot the ground between the paws of one of the many blocking their path to the space bridge. When it jumped back out of the way he fired at another one. The creatures got the message, and slowly parted as Bluestreak and Dragstrip moved through them.

One lunged at Bluestreak, and he swung, catching the side of its head with the butt of his rifle. The crack was sickeningly loud, and he winced. He’d hit it too hard. It wouldn’t be waking up. The others held back for a moment, but then the leader howled. They all howled, and Bluestreak raised his rifle.

More died, mostly from Dragstrip firing indiscriminately into the pack, but Bluestreak, sadly, ended a few himself. He only killed the ones that attacked him, and they’d gotten their claws into him two more times, the gouges bleeding energon in thin rivulets down his legs.

Dragstrip shouted an almost constant stream of profanity, taunting the creatures, daring them to attack again. He sported a few injuries of his own, forcing them both to limp closer and closer to the space bridge. Bluestreak held himself in check. His instincts screamed to take the creatures down, not let an enemy have another chance at him, because clearly, they were enemies now. Simple animals wouldn’t have laid in wait, set up an ambush, and attacked. But his spark pulsed sadness and pain, and he kept seeing that first one that had only shown curiosity. He didn’t want to kill them. Could even understand why they would be so angry. The first’s death had been wrong. Murder.

The way to the space bridge was clear, but the pack, over thirty more of the creatures, held their ground and were ready to give chase. Bluestreak shook his head, and placed a hand over Dragstrip’s, forcing him to lower the blaster a little. “Back away slowly. They know we’re willing to kill them, but they may not understand we’re trying to leave.”

“You are so fucking soft-sparked, it’s stupid!” Dragstrip snapped.

“ _You_ need to get the space bridge going. I _will_ watch your back, and kill them if I have to, but only _if_ I _have_ to.”

“Fine. Let’s move.”

They inched their way back, and of course a few more of the creatures launched attacks of their own. Bluestreak put a bolt down the length of one’s flank. It yipped, fell to the side, and began licking at the charred stripe on its hide. It would most likely be fine. Dragstrip obliterated another that sprung forward at them, and Bluestreak resisted the urge to shoot him instead.

The large leader prowled forward, the pack following and never more than a couple meters from them as they backed slowly across the plain. Bluestreak wasn’t sure what their plan was, and frowned. “Put your back to mine. This is off. What are they thinking?”

Dragstrip growled. “One of them bites my aft, and I’ll shoot you first.” He spun, ducking down for an instant, then pressed his back to Bluestreak’s between his high-hitched doorwings. Bluestreak swept his rifle back and forth as a few of them tensed and looked like they might try something. “We’re clear. Need to head to my left a little, the gate’s on the side from where we are now.”

“You steer. I’ll follow. Keep a look out on the ground too. This feels like being herded.” But toward what? Did the creatures think they could trap them in the space bridge? Was it just a wall to them where Bluestreak and Dragstrip wouldn’t be able to retreat further, and then they could attack?

What should have been a two minute jog across flat terrain turned into nearly a half hour ordeal. As the got closer to the walls of the space bridge Bluestreak thought he might have been right about them wanting to trap them. The more they would angle toward the gate, the more the creatures would snap and snarl on that side. Bluestreak painted a line of laser fire from his left to right, then still had to kill one when it leapt at him.

“How much farther?”

“Almost there, but we need them the hell off of us so I can get the bridge online.”

Bluestreak knew tactically what he needed to do. What _might_ work. “I know.” He stopped, leveled the rifle at the leader. It also might send them into a frenzy.

Dragstrip stopped, and stepped back, peeking over Bluestreak’s shoulder. “Why aren’t we moving?”

Bluestreak dropped the barrel, and fired right between the leader’s paws. “Because I’m trying to give them a chance to end this without more loss. It’s an Autobot thing. Bear with me.”

Dragstrip snerked. “Yeah, I have nowhere to be. Take your time.”

The leader growled, so Bluestreak fired again, this time a little higher so the shot blew dirt and gravel up into the softer looking belly of the creature. “Come on. Don’t make me do it. Just leave, and we’ll leave too.”

The growl grew louder, and Bluestreak aimed for its head. The rest of the pack remained still, many looking toward the leader. “Be smart. Please be smart.”

A few of the creatures stepped back, then a few more. One chirped. Another nudged the leader’s hip. The leader eyed Bluestreak, its growl rumbling deeper before finally stopping. It snorted, then chirped, the others all breaking away. Some turned and trotted away, some backed away slowly. The leader stood glaring until most of the pack was well away. Bluestreak lowered the muzzle of his rifle, but kept it braced against his shoulder.

He watched as the leader snarled, then fearlessly turned its back, and walked away.

“Bet you’d be pissed if I shot it now, huh?”

Bluestreak flicked a doorwing, smacking Dragstrip with it. “Let’s get out of here before it changes its mind.” He kept watch as the pack disappeared into trees, following Dragstrip backwards mostly by sound.

They stopped by the control panel, and Bluestreak scanned the area while Dragstrip booted everything up.

“So we get off the bridge, and we go home? Right?” Dragstrip asked, and Bluestreak looked back at him.

“Yep. Walk away. Truce is in effect until we both get ordered onto the same battlefield.”

“And what if other ‘Cons are there waiting for me? You don’t think they’ll actually listen to me if I say not to shoot you, do you?”

Bluestreak shook his head. “But I’d consider it a favor if you’d try.” He watched closely as Dragstrip entered the coordinates, only one hand visible. _Damn. Don’t do it, kid._

Dragstrip snorted. “Yeah. You can owe me one. Hell, you might even escape if I did, they’d all be laughing.”

Bluestreak carefully shifted the grip on his rifle, flicking his doorwings, but resettling them in a different position. He forced a chuckle. “Whatever works,” then deliberately turned his head to give Dragstrip a chance to take him down.

“I think this’ll work bett-“

Bluestreak dropped into a crouch, turned, and brought the butt of his rifle up to smash into Dragstrip’s chin. The blaster bolt had gone over him, but Dragstrip wasn’t out yet, just dazed. He fired again, the bolt scoring a line of fire over one of Bluestreak’s doorwings.

Bluestreak swung again, bashing Dragstrip in the side of his helm, then again. He watched the Stunticon crumple to the ground, and sighed. He took the blaster from Dragstrip’s limp hand, and stuck it in his own subspace, then pushed the activation key on the control panel.

As the space bridge cycled up, Bluestreak grabbed Dragstrip’s feet, and pulled him into the ring. He stepped back as the gate closed, gripped his rifle tight, and offered a prayer to any god willing to listen. Primus, but he hated space bridges.

The sky opened up above, and Bluestreak stared at the swirling vortex. He tensed as he was pulled upward, tucking his doorwings in close and flat to his back. He only spared a glance to be sure Dragstrip was being taken up too. Little slagger had broken the deal, but Bluestreak would still honor his end. Plus he’d make a good shield if there were other Decepticons waiting.

At least the trip over the space bridge was a fast one, and Bluestreak was very happy to hear the boom of thunder and see a long stretch of desert surrounding the Earth side space bridge as he was lowered to the ground. He also saw that there weren’t any Decepticons.

 _My lucky day._ He winced a bit as Dragstrip dropped none too gently to the ground. “Not so much yours though,” Bluestreak said, and reached down to grab one of the Stunticon’s ankles. He dragged him outside the ring, even nudged him into the shade of the wall.

Bluestreak smiled, inhaled deeply, then transformed. //Autobot Bluestreak to Command, anyone read me?//

//Bluestreak! You’re back early! I mean… Autobot Bluestreak, this is Command, we read you.//

Bluestreak laughed at Bumblebee’s slip. //Good to hear a friendly voice, Command. I could use some help. I hopped a ride back, and have no idea where I actually am.//

//Bluestreak, Prowl. We have you, and Skyfire is on route. What is your situation?//

//Alone, but with possible enemy interest, so I’m going to keep driving. Ratchet’s gonna be mad at me,// he added as an afterthought. In fact he’d been so happy to be home, he’d barely noted the pain, but now that he was moving along pretty good, the wind and dust from the road were making those deep gouges in his armor sting a fair amount. //Nothing dire though.//

//Understood. We will see you shortly. Prowl out.//

~ | ~

Bluestreak sat on the med berth, feet swinging and a smile on his face. Ratchet had patched up his legs with his usual perfection, (and a string of profane hyphenated references that made Bluestreak’s spark pulse with affection). He was now running a full diagnostic, and patching all the little bites from the bat-bird-fish things while Bluestreak gave Prowl a verbal debriefing.

“I have some really cool pictures too! That cave had all these pretty red crystals, and they glowed, and there was this little gecko thing too, but it scurried off too quick for me to grab an image capture of, and the moss! It was softer than my berth. I think that was the only decent rest I got there, but you shoulda seen Dragstrip. I mean I guess it might be partly because he’s a ‘Con or something, but then you’d think maybe they aren’t so trusting, but then maybe he’s just used to imminent threat while trying to recharge, cuz he would just _crash_ most of the time, but then he wasn’t really drinking very much of the energon so he was probably wearing down a lot faster than me. Not that I can blame him, that slag is _vile_ , but if it’s life or death, ya know-“

“I agree,” Prowl cut in smoothly, a small smile showing.

Bluestreak flashed him a bright grin, and continued. “It was so funny, I mean, I know it wasn’t for him, and if it’d been me, I’d sure have been mad too, but when he slipped and fell in the bat sh- …feces, and he cussed, and I was like, _exactly_!” He giggled helplessly. “It was _so_ gross! And he didn’t even know what it was at first, but I couldn’t help laughing, and then when we were climbing the roots out, he slipped again!”

Ratchet snorted a laugh, and Prowl was trying to look properly serious, but his lips twitched, and that made Bluestreak giggled again.

“And those ‘bats’ are the things that did all this damage?” the medic asked, soothing a sealant on one of Bluestreak’s lines.

“Yeah. Little fraggers! They hurt too! Oh! I have some damage on the back of my knee. One _chewed_ on me!” Bluestreak shifted to the side to show the wound, but Ratchet stopped him.

“I’ll get to it. Hold still.”

“Ok. So when we finally got out, we had to run. That was pretty funny too. I mean for something being painful, it was hard not to laugh. Dragstrip wasn’t laughing much, but he doesn’t have a very good sense of humor. Oh! He can swear real good,” Bluestreak said looking back at Ratchet. “He didn’t believe me when I said you were better, and he is really pretty good, but he uses a lot of human bad words too.” He paused. “Come to think of it, he barely used anything _but_ human words.”

Bluestreak shrugged it off, and got a growl out of Ratchet for not holding still. “Anyway, so we sat under a lake for a little while until they got bored and went away, and we used the sand to scrub off the mess, but I’d still like a few hours in the washracks cuz I sure don’t _feel_ clean.”

“I am certain that once Ratchet is satisfied with your health, that can be arranged,” Prowl said.

Bluestreak beamed. “Excellent! Ok, so anyhow. Then we got ambushed by the cat creatures, but that was Dragstrip’s fault for killing them, so I think they’re smarter than _just_ animals because I really tried… Prowl. I _really_ tried to avoid killing any of them, but I had to.” He fell silent for a moment then cycled his vents. “It worked out in the end, though I think. The leader chose to go away instead of me having to shoot it, and I’m really glad for that, because I really didn’t want to do it. And then _finally_ we were at the space bridge, and I was kinda expecting it, so when Dragstrip tried to shoot me in the back of the head, I went and knocked him out. That’s how I got that.” He brought a doorwing forward and pointed at the carbon scoring.

“I left him just outside the space bridge for the other ‘Cons to find, or so he can figure out how to get back to his base.” Bluestreak waved a hand, and grinned as Ratchet swore, grabbed his wrist, and went back to work. “I’ll make sure you get the whole report Prowl, I was kinda putting it together as a log while the whole thing was happening, so if tomorrow is ok, I’ll-“

“Tomorrow is fine, Bluestreak.” Prowl reached out and squeezed Bluestreak’s shoulder, smiling. “Welcome home.”

Bluestreak beamed. “Thanks, Prowl!” He waved as Prowl left the medbay, and giggled as Ratchet cursed and grabbed his arm again.

“Hold still, slaggit, or I’m going add a few dents of my own to you.”

Bluestreak just smiled. Primus, it was _good_ to be home!

**Author's Note:**

> [True Colors Art by DarthNeko](http://darthneko.livejournal.com/1589661.html)   
>  [Pull Me Up! by LB82](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7263385/chapters/16491538)   
>  [Fissbats by LB82](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7263385/chapters/16491544)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [True Colors Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7263385) by [LB82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB82/pseuds/LB82)




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